Lost in Jest
by Omega182
Summary: In insanity lies the valley of shadows. The shadows cover the truth and twist it into lies. The lies are sweet and pleasant to listen to, but the truth can often kill the soul. For Robin, Tim Drake...that is just the beginning. This story is set in the flashback scene in ROTJ. EDIT: To answer my Anonymous reviewer, no this story will not be ending in the next chapter! :)
1. Chapter 1

Pain.

Pain was his first memory. Pain and the dark. The feeling of pain and fear and the surrounding darkness; then suddenly nothing. The feeling of nothing was strange with no emotions or sensations, but he was sure that he was awake. He had to be, how else could he tell that he was slapped in the face even though he couldn't feel it. He was aware of it and that was all. Strange; almost funny. Then he felt the burning, well at least he thought he did. It was dull, as if it were an old memory and he wasn't quite sure as if it happened long ago. Where exactly was the burning happening? In his throat, mouth and guts? He wasn't even sure if it was happening now or it happened later; if it even happened at all. The feeling of disconnection was alien and yet comforting.

Then, the movies started. The movies were fuzzy and out of focus and didn't make much sense. They sort of skipped around and didn't connect properly. First there was a kitchen, then suddenly there was a stadium or what he thought could be one; broken roof tops that showed the sky and a clown.

A wave of fear came from that clown, but the movies went to fast for him to think to much about it. Then his mom. His mom singing to him and stroking his hair. Was it his mom? Again, the movies were too quick. They were going to quick for him to see them or think about them and he started to feel dizzy and short of breath, at least he though so. Time had no place where the movies were. Had he been watching them for seconds or days? Then suddenly, reality.

It was as if waking with a start, the sensation of when it felt like someone dropped you in your bed and your not sure if that's what truly happened. He took in a breath and looked around. There wasn't much to see, a blue curtain and some sort of equipment. He tried to remember where he was, but his mind was failing him and it hurt to think about it. He looked down and saw that he was on some sort of table ; strapped down at the waist. He moved his hands to unbuckle it and it felt like he was controlling his hands from outside his body. The strap wasn't locked and came undone like a seat belt.

What's a seat belt?

He moved to get down but he suddenly felt heavy. As if someone suddenly put sand in arms and legs and he felt lopsided. He jumped down and nearly collapsed; his body fighting his every move as if it didn't want to go. He wasn't going to let that stop him, his curiosity was too great for that. He moved closer to the curtain, his shoes clicking on the ground. Shoes, it sounds funny when you say it over and over again. He suddenly felt strange, it was that feeling that he first remembered, fear. It didn't go away this time. It stayed and made his chest hurt. He didn't even know what to be fearful of. He didn't or couldn't remember...perhaps on purpose? There was a sound in the air; he knew what it was but for some bizarre reason he couldn't think of what it was. He wasn't even sure where it was coming from. Ignoring the feelings of everything he moved the curtain back and looked around.

It was that kitchen he saw in his movie, well sort of. In the movie it was complete. Canary-yellow and white wall tiles and floor with splotches of blue here and there, an old fridge, kitchen table for three with flowers on it. In the movie there where four walls, here there were only two. The two walls that did exist didn't exactly look like what he had seen in the movie. They were dirty and looked like they were well, fake. He looked up, and didn't see the sky like he expected. He did see a playing card, isn't that what they were called or was it a calling card? He looked around and saw that this house was mismatched around and that it really wasn't a house but more of a play set that wasn't connected in another building. Toys of all sorts surrounding the area, especially building blocks and large ones at that.

He felt confused. It was strange yet familiar, as if he'd seen it many times before. He walked out further, and could hear the sound again. It was making him nervous, it sounded so close but when he looked for it he couldn't see the point of origin. There was a new sound as well. It was quiet and came in jagged waves. Crying, yes...that's what it's called, isn't it? This sound was coming from a building block. He walked over to it, hearing the clicking of his feet and it echoed too loud off the walls. The closer he got, the louder that sound got.

Crying. Don't forget that word. Can't remember much right now, remember that at least.

He came up to the block and saw that it wasn't a solid block, more of a box turned on it's side. He looked in and saw...what. This was frustrating. He couldn't remember simple things anymore, and he...

A girl, yes that what it was. It took him a minute but then he remembered that name. A girl, and he was a, boy? Yes, he was sure of that, but it was still frustrating. He looked at the girl and studied her; trying to recall more. She was younger than him, or older...no definitely younger. She had to be; she was small, much smaller than himself. She had to be...what. Four or five years old. He pushed the question of 'what's a year' out of his mind and tried to focus on what was in front of him. She had yellow hair or is it called blond? He shook his head; everything was so swampy in his head. Her hair was in pigtails, held together with pink bugs, of what he didn't care. She was wearing a white shirt with red overalls and little pink shoes and lacy socks. Her face was buried in her knees with her arms wrapped around her legs. He bent down to get a closer look; when he did he heard that weird sound again and she must of have too. She looked up suddenly and looked directly at him. Her face and eyes were red; must have been crying for awhile. Her face suddenly contorted into an expression. Why can't he remember the basics?

Fear, yes that's what fear looks like on a face. She was afraid. Afraid of what? He looked behind him and saw nothing but a wall; that wasn't scary but then again what did he know right now. He looked back at her and saw that she was trying to push herself further into the corner of the box; eyes darting all around him.

It must be me, he thought. She's afraid of me. He crept closer, getting inside the box; wanting to show her that there wasn't anything to be afraid of as he reached out toward her. Her eyes bulged and she looked right into his eyes. Then that sound again. It was loud this time; it followed him into the box. That sound was making him on edge. That's what she must be afraid of. He stopped and looked around in that box. He didn't see anything, other than himself and the girl. He looked at his outstretched arm. There was...a colored glove covering his hand. A long purple...yes a purple sleeve on his arm. He followed his arm to his torso. Green, green and more purple. He had a green belly. No wait...that was just a, a vest. Purple pants, neatly pressed and white knees. White knees? He looked back up to the girl not looking at the fear in her face but her skin. Her skin was peach, with different hues of red in it. He looked back at his knees and saw stark white with no discernible colors, just white.

Then that sound came back, only this time he saw his stomach heave with each sound. The sound was coming from him, from his mouth. As if it knew, the sound wouldn't stop this time. He tried pressing his hands on his stomach to stop it, but it kept going so he covered his mouth but it only muffled it. The more he fought it, the louder it got. It was disturbing to listen to, what ever it was called he knew it didn't sound right. It was high and in wavering short spouts. He held his breath hoping to block out the sound but as he did, the sound stopped. He kept holding his breath, not wanting to hear that ugly sound again. With both hands over his mouth he looked down at the girl and saw that her expression had changed slightly. It was still fearful, but there was confusion there as well. He sat down in that box holding his breath, trying to contain it, but his stomach kept lurching; trying to force the sound out.

Laughter. That's what it was called. He remembered that laughter was supposed to be a joyful expression, but why did it make him so sick to hear it? The sound made his head spin and his stomach clench up. His confusion was reaching its peak, he wanted to remember everything but at the same time didn't. He started to feel light-headed and finally moved his hands away from his face and took a gasping breath. The laughter was gone; crawled back down his throat for now. He looked at the girl, this time she was looking at him with less fear but with more, he didn't know what but he didn't want to know. Her eyes suddenly darted from him and looked over his shoulder and the look of fear returned to her face tenfold. She shrank back to her corner and she looked smaller than she really was. He felt something fall heavily onto his left shoulder and then began to squeeze it to the point where it hurt. He turned to look.

The clown had come out of the movie.

* * *

**Note:**

**First off, I'd like to thank you for reading this. It is I hope to continue it soon, but I promise more is to come!**


	2. Chapter 2

There was only one thought in his head while looking at the movie clown; behave. He didn't know why, but it was the only logical decision. The clowns grip became tighter on his shoulder, his fingers digging in purposefully. The only thing he could focus on was the clown's eyes; everything else seemed unimportant at the moment. The eyes were red, narrowed and focused on his own eyes and were full of controlled anger. The clown started to talk to him, but he couldn't really hear what he said. The world began to blur at the corners as loud, painful memories poured out. The memories were coming too fast for him to fully understand and to try to focus on one only brought a new feeling of pain on his body as if it was happening right then and there. He suddenly felt a violent shake on his shoulder that brought him back. The clown hand come down closer to him, his face only inches away. He raised his free hand and lifted up a finger and quietly said,

"Focus." with the same gleam in his eyes.

Behave. I must behave, was the only thing that ran in his head. He looked at the clowns face, focusing on that and had the feeling that his life truly depended on it. The clowns features were narrow and sharp. Pointed noes with a slender jaw line. Green hair oiled and slicked back revealing a large widow's peak, and a large grin that was devoid of any comfort. The clown looked at him for a few seconds, then leaned back tilting his head in a playfully, another expression taking over.

"Huh-hey! There we go," he said with a laugh, "don't need you zoning out just quiet yet!" The clown the stood up, violently pulling him up as well and then pushing him away from the box. The girl inside squeaked in fear as the clown grabbed her. He pulled her out just as violently, picking her up and looking down at her with true anger.

"I thought I told you to stay put!" he said giving her a quick shake. The girl did not answer, only cried all the harder. As the clown started to walk away from him with the girl in hand did some clear memories start to come to play. Joker. That was what he was. He remembered that and he was...what exactly. He tried to have a clearer memory of this man, but when he tried, all he got was pain and the feeling to behave. Meanwhile the Joker took the girl and pushed her into another building block box, but this one had a lid with lock on it. He put the girl inside and closed the box as hard as he could, locking it while muttering to himself.

"You'd think one would be enough but no," he grumbled to himself locking the padlock, "she has to go out and get another brat! She has no right to change the joke like this. After this is done, I think I may just get rid of her at the same time as the bird. Speaking of which, where is she?" He pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch, "She should have been back by now." He walked over to a radio on the fake kitchens counter and turned it on. Only static first blared out of it, but he turned a knob until a woman's voice played on it. The voice was monotone and slow, reading what sounded like police reports. The Joker then tuned toward him, and he felt himself lock up.

"Get back behind the curtain, I don't want you running around incase we get a sudden bat infestation." He looked at the Joker and was going to do as he was told, but something in the back of his head told him not to do it. It was a weak feeling; easy to ignore, but it just felt...right. He didn't quiet know what to do, obey or disobey; he hesitated. The Joker saw this and slowly approached him, placing his arms behind him as he walked over to him. He then leaned down at him and said quietly:

"I said, 'get back behind the curtain', right now." He looked up at the Joker, not knowing what to do. The Joker smiled slowly, gently grabbing him by the arm and leading him back to the blue curtain.

"It seams to me," he said while leading him, "that we're not quiet done yet. I think one more lesson should do the trick." Suddenly, he felt like he was going to die and wanted to run away. He tried to escape the Jokers grip while the laughter started to come out again. The Joker only held onto him all the tighter. He pulled him back behind the curtain, and tossed him back onto the operation table. The Joker looked him dead in the eye, and said:

"It seems that you need a good long lesson my boy," he strapped him back down at the waist, "now I know this will hurt you much more than me." He laughed at that and picked up a syringe and walked over to him.

He saw the injection needle, saw how large and dirty it looked. Fear took hold of his chest, locking him in place. Somewhere deep in his mind, he told himself if he fought it, it would only make it worse, drowning out the part that whispered him to fight. He didn't see the needle go in but he felt it. Felt how fast and deep into his thigh, aware of the weight behind it. Then the rush of fluid into his thigh and how painful that was alone. Then the burning started. It traveled up and down his leg, crawled its way up into his chest and then the pain was everywhere. His skin felt on fire with muscles seized, hands clawed and back arched painfully forward. If he hadn't been strapped down, he would have surely fallen down. It was painful to breath, but his chest heaved up and down, desperate for air. His eyes darted around on their own, not able to focus on just one thing while the world rippled. His wold became nothing more than pain and fear. Then, nothing but darkness.

* * *

He sat there in the darkness, not feeling or thinking of anything. Back to square one. Soon however, the world presented itself slowly to his eyes. His eyes demanded to stay closed, but he forced them to open. His eyes still fluttering to stay closed, he tried to look around. His head felt painful and heavy to move, but he managed to tilt it to the side to look. He was still behind the curtain from what he saw. His body started to shake, making some of the metal of his straps clang onto the operation table. His chest was still heaving, trying to catch is breath but what little was caught was quietly laughed out. His skin still burned slightly and his hair that was stuck on his forehead felt itchy and all he wanted to do was scratch everything away. Then the curtain pulled back. The sudden bright light hurt his sore eyes and they tried to clamp down, but he felt if he did, the pain would surely start over again. The Joker sauntered slowly over to his side, his eyes never looking away from him and he never looked away from the Joker. To do so would be bad, he had to give him his full attention, even if he didn't have any at the time. The joker leaned in closer and whispered in his ear.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He didn't know what to do, but he nodded slowly, hoping that's what he wanted.

"And the lesson was what?" he kept whispering to him. Now he was in it, he didn't know. He looked into the Jokers eyes blankly, trying desperately to think of the answer.

"That's right," cried out the Joker, hurting his head from the volume of it, "never to talk back or question me! Oh, I knew you where a smart kid!" He began to remove the straps on him. "Much smarter than Harley ever was," he said while ruffling his hair. The act hurt his head, but he didn't dare show that it did, "yes sir, I've never been more proud of myself. Now JJ," he said while walking away, "want you to come here. I want to show you something important." He tried to jump down and follow him, but his body was weaker than ever, but he knew now that to disobey was worse. He jumped down and collapsed on the floor, but finding what little strength he had left he got up and followed his dad.

Dad? Where did that idea come from? Maybe it was true because after all, his head wasn't working right. Maybe he did all this out of love. He caught up to the Joker, following close at hand. They walked out of the theater and down a crumbled hallway. He didn't really look around, only focused on his dad. His dad demanded attention and he knew what would happen otherwise now. He thought about what his dad had called him, JJ. That's my name, he thought. Simple enough, but why did it feel so...artificial? Don't question it. Focus on what's happening now, if you don't back into bed with you and that's bad.

They entered a old room that looked like it had once upon a time been a doctors office. Old file cabinets left to rust and a large oak desk that was probably expensive had papers and blueprints strewn atop it. In the corner was a large disassembled jack in the box; on top of that junk was an old straitjacket. Hanging on the wall was a old oil painting of a man with the title 'Our founder: Jeremiah Arkham'. Someone had drawn a fake moustache and beard on it, with goofy cross eyes and tongue sticking out.

"Everything is almost ready," the Joker said to him as he rounded the desk, "soon bat-breath's final curtain call will start, and you," he said looking up at him with a large grin, "will be the final nail in the coffin. In more ways than one!" He opened up a desk drawer and pulled out a large metal box. He tucked the box under his arms and started to walk out of the office, JJ following as best as he could. They reentered the operating theater and the Joker walked over to the kitchen table and set the box down on it.

"You should consider yourself lucky sonny-boy," he said turning to him, "inside here is a secret that I've kept for all these years. Now I'm sharing it with you." He opened the box to reveal what looked like a toy gun, safety tip and all. The joker pulled it out and held it up to show him.

"I had a gun smith make this for me after the first time I fought ol' pointy ears as the man I am today," he said with a nostalgic sigh, "It's a custom made dart gun! Inside is your standard 'Bang' flag, it'll pop out the first time you pull the trigger," he said as he did so. True enough, it made a loud toy gun sound with smoke and the flag popped out. The yellow and red flag was bright and looked harmless. "However, when you pull the trigger again," he said while aiming it at an imaginary target, "Pow! The dart shoots out and impales whoever you're shooting at! Of course since this gun was a custom job, that gunsmith wanted a lot for it for a kings ransom so I gave him a piece of my mind...and his mind made a mess all over the wall" He chortled at his own joke.

"This gun was made for one purpose only," he said leaning closer to the boy, "to personally thank Batman for making me who I am today. I had planed on using it the next time we'd meet, but as time went on," he said looking up with another wave of happy memories, "I grew to like our merry romps. I'd do something; he'd try to stop me and around and around we went for many years. But now, we're getting older," he said looking at him "and won't be able to keep up the merry game. It's time to finish it," he said with a growing edge to his voice, "to prove once and for all that I was in full control the whole time and that I'm simply tired of the game."

He pulled the back the plunger on the gun and the dart retreated back into the gun and set it on the table.

"As for you," he said turning back to him and slapping his hands firmly on his shoulders, "you are the build up of the joke, and you will be the one to deliver the punch line. The ultimate joke! The final blow to his frail little ego! It will be hilarious!" He laughed long and hard at the thought and anticipation of the final showdown, knowing that in the end, he had already won. JJ didn't understand most of what was said, he tried his best to listen to his dad but his head was killing him and all he got out of it was that he was going to do something important.

The Joker looked down at his creation and had to smile. Here was his ultimate joke, this...thing he made. It was perfect! True Harley had given him the initial idea, but everything else was of his own design. It was also his most time consuming project. Sure he kept tabs on that Charles...what's-his-name for years but that was simple, this had required twenty-four hour dedication for weeks! He had originally thought it would take three weeks, but it had turned into months of work. The kid was more stubborn than he thought, but here he was now. He remembered when the kid truly cracked; he tried to get more information out of him but all he got was the 5 mile stare. He thought he'd over done it, but now here he was. A chip off the ol' block! Well, almost. He had to be sure. He had to make sure that he would obey him, no mater what. The Joker looked him over again, noticed his suit was slightly grubby and his hair messy.

"Well kiddo," he said slapping him hard in the back playfully, "it seems that you need to get cleaned up first! Where is Harley?! She should have been back by now!" He looked at the doorway and thought for a moment.

"Guess I'll have to go fetch her myself," he said angrily, "I'll kill her if she ruins the joke." He pointed to the curtain

"Get on the table and strap yourself in, I'll be over to...tuck you in, in a moment." Not even thinking about it, JJ turned and walked over to the curtain and moved it aside and climbed back on the table. He grabbed the waist strap and closed it over himself, lied back and waited. As he waited, he decided that he was just confused at first. Thinking was the quickest way of getting in trouble here; he had to just be reminded of it. However, a small part of him still nagged at him. He wasn't sure why he felt like this, but after he felt the needle and felt the anesthetic take over he didn't have to think anymore about it.

He woke up slowly, still dazed from the drug. He didn't know how long he had slept but he did feel slightly better though. Perhaps all he really needed was some sleep after all. He decided to wait for someone to come to him, he didn't want to get into trouble again after what happened earlier. He couldn't see much anyway as it was dark behind the curtain, so he decided to try to sleep some more as he waited. As he tired to fall asleep, that nagging feeling came back. Something in his head was trying to get his attention, but he kept ignoring it. He was suddenly aware that someone was yelling. He tried to focus on it but the voice was at a distance. Suddenly the voice boomed inside the room.

"Get back over here you little brat!" He heard the Joker call out. Objects were crashing down and breaking as something was a chase went on. He remembered that little girl, locked in the box, maybe she got out? He then heard a high loud yelp and then crying from what he assumed the girl. The girl kept crying and what seemed to be struggling, and the nagging feeling got stronger. Despite himself, he got up and peeked out the curtain. The girl was kicking and screaming; trying her best to get away but a four year old is no match for a full grown adult. The Joker opened up the same box that he had put her in before and put her back into it. He closed the latch again and put another block on top.

"I can't believe this," he grumbled to himself, "here I am, ready to put on my grand finally for ol' bats and Harley has to go missing in action on me! Ungrateful wench! I had to clean up the kid myself, and now," he said kicking the box as hard as he pleased resulting a yelp within, "this other brat keeps running around and crying! What did Harley want with her anyway? Did she think I wouldn't mind?" He looked around and J quietly went back on the table, not wanting to get caught off of it. He heard the Joker walk on the tile of the fake kitchen and then heard what sounded like paper.

"Dear Puddin'," read the Joker out loud with venom in 'puddin', "I'll be back home in a day or three. Wanted to get together with Pam one last time before I settle into family life. I hope you will consider..." He stopped reading it out loud, only mumbled. He crumpled the letter up and threw it away.

"Bah! If she thinks I'm going to do the same thing to that kid as I did to Robin, she's sorely mistaken! I don't have time for this! Not this close to opening night!" He pulled out a handgun from his holster and pointed it at the box, but stop when he was about to pull the trigger. A idea popped into his head. He did have to make sure that the bird brain was under his thumb. He turned and looked at the curtain. He had to make sure that he would do what he said. This was too important; the entire joke rested on him able to 'deliver the punch line'. He had to make sure.

Behind the curtain, JJ's mind was racing. That word triggered something in his head; gave the nagging in his head new strength. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. He tried to think of what it could possibly mean, but he couldn't figure why 'robin' would cause such a feeling of unease. The Joker called out to him, he had to figure it out later. He got back down again and walked out from the curtain. The Joker had his hands on his hips, looking down at him with pride.

"Hey there son," he said with glee, "since your ma is out sleeping with another woman, I thought we could pass the time with a little game." He picked up the bang dart gun and held it up again.

"It's called, 'target practice'. It's a fun little game that we're going to play with Batman and his friends, but I want to make sure you know the rules first." JJ kept looking up at the Joker, but the new thought kept coming on stronger and he couldn't stop or completely ignore them. The Joker gently place the gun in his hands, and it slowed his train of thought.

"I know I said that this was made for Batman" as Batman landed on the thug and knocked him out instantly, "but I just want to make sure you know what to do." JJ started to shiver slightly, the movies were starting again and he couldn't risk making his dad angry. A old kind face of a man whisked by, asking him if he had done his homework, a girl with red hair smiles at another man as they practice...ugh! These movies were horrible! He didn't know what they meant. He had to make his dad happy because he then would be happy too. He looked down at the gun and tried to focus on that; to drive away the movies.

'This isn't right.' said something in his head. He shook his head, trying to silence it. 'You know this isn't right. Fight it.' Fight it, fight what? The world started to spin again. The movies...memories kept playing on. He was flying; soaring in-between buildings while laughing as if he had done it a million times before. He liked this movie and focused on this one. He landed and looked around at the rooftops of the city. He heard a cry. "Help!" He was shaken from the memory when he heard the girl call out for help, she kicked and cried trying to get away. He held her by the arm as she kicked in the air, crying from the pain of being held up.

"Make daddy proud," he said while pointing to the girl, "you know what to do. Deliver the punch line." That last sentence triggered a response, he suddenly became calm and raised the gun and pointed it at the girl. Deliver the punch line. 'Don't do it.' the voice called out again, 'you know who you are, you know.' He started to laugh, of course he knew who he was, it all made sense because everything didn't make sense and that was the joke. The voice didn't get the joke, that's all. He pulled the trigger and the flag popped out; it had a stronger kick than he realized. Pull the trigger again and the girl will be saved. Saved? What no, he meant shot. Then everything started to melt into movies as his head bobbed in the invisible waves. All the movies of the old memories and the new started to fight for screen time. One movie started while another was in the middle of it and it was making his head hurt. He had to do as his dad said or he would get into trouble! One life was mingling with another and he didn't know what to do. The voices were crying out for attention.

'Don't do it.' 'You have to' 'This isn't you' 'Do it' 'He's right' 'Don't shoot'

He closed his eyes, trying to shut the voices up, but they shot open when he heard a new voice, one that was low, strong and confident. Not just a voice, but a true wonderful loving memory.

"I'm proud of you Tim."

...He remembered.

Reality came crashing back when he heard a loud bang and felt himself push back from the recoil. The wold suddenly became quiet. Peace at last. He looked on, seeing the girl on the ground all crumpled up from being dropped. The Joker stood there with the most pure expression of shock and surprise. He was looking down at his chest, the dart sticking out from where his heart was. He numbly fumbled for the dart and wrapped his hand around it. He looked up at his creation, still in shock.

"That's not funny," he said with a blank look on his face, "that's not..." he gasped and a look of fear waved over his face and then he fell down face first. He didn't move. The laughter erupted out of him as he looked on. Nothing in the whole world was more hilarious than this. He was a walking joke to what he was! Of course it was funny! Hilarious! The greatest joke of all! He looked at the gun and all the emotions of the past three months hit him; all the pain and fear and longing. He let the gun go as he laughed on. He was laughing so hard that tears poured out...or was he crying. Yes, he could admit it to himself; he was crying. He fell to his knees, not caring how much it hurt to do so. He had never sobbed so hard in his life. The last time he did so, his mom came into the room and held him tight and with gently strokes in his hair, but that was three lifetimes ago. There was no mom, there was no dad, there wasn't even Batman. He wrapped his arms around and hugged himself, his sobbing echoing loudly thought the decaying insane asylum.

* * *

He didn't know how long he had sat on his knees and cried. He cried and cried and wondered if the room would flood with them like in that one story. His chest kept catching raspy breaths as if he was going to sob again, but nothing came of it. His whole body hurt from it. He finally opened his eyes and looked ahead.

There it was, the corpse of his torturer and his...fathers nemesis. The corpse of the Joker. It wasn't just a dream he had hope it was. He looked down while bitting his lip. Not all of his memories of the past few months were unlocked as of yet, but he remembered his past life as Robin. He remembered the quiet understanding way of Alfred, Barbra's infectious laugh and Dick's relaxed ways. The laughter came back, it was loud and maniacal and sounded too familiar to the Jokers. He held his breath and covered his mouth. He didn't want to even think that he could produce such a ugly sound. He could hardly believe that he had lost himself to that madman, and even thought he was his dad! He was weak. He opened his eyes and realized what he had done. He had told everything! He had betrayed everyone's trust and told the Joker everything he knew. He looked at the Jokers corpse again and at the gun near his knees. He felt sick. He got up and tired to remember where a restroom in this dump was.

He rushed out of the operation theater and turned down a hallway and found the closest restroom. He didn't make it to the toilet but he did reach the sink. What ever was in his stomach lurched out and spilled over into the sink. He didn't have much inside, but he continued to retch even after the fact. He hated this feeling; always had. He tried to stop but his body was insistent in continuing on. Soon it did stop and he put his head on the cold porcelain sink. He breathed in, trying to clear his head and plan the next step. Without looking up, he turned on the faucet to rinse it out. He would find a telephone, call Bruce or Dick, have them fix everything. He stood up and took off his gloves to cup the water to rinse out the bile. He cupped his hands and was going to take a sip when he looked at them.

They were white. Not Caucasian white, but clown white. He took a sip, he was just tired. He spat the water out and panted. Panic was starting to settle in. It was makeup...yes it had to be. He looked into the mirror and chocked down a laugh. He looked just like him. White face and green hair; dark ruby lips and...and... He bent down and splashed the water on his face. It was just makeup. It will wash off. He rubbed his face hard with his hands, knowing greasepaint makeup was thick. He grabbed the dirty towel and rubbed his face into it. He paused, and slowly lowered the towel. It was all still there. The midnight black around his large eyes, the red irises the white of his skin and that horrible grin. It was far wider than the Jokers ever was, showing all his teeth and somehow even more terrifying. The laughter came out again, loud and nerve-racking as ever. It made him retch again as he laughed. He sank to the floor of that disgusting restroom while laughing and retching. He couldn't. He couldn't call for help now. Not like this. He was pathetic. Laughing and dry-heaving on the floor with eyes wide open not looking at anything. He couldn't do this to the others.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't want to let the wold know what happened. That face in the mirror was the most disgusting, pathetic thing he had ever seen. He stood back up and looked again in the mirror. It was stupid, what he was wearing was stupid. He looked like if Eddy Munster had designed his clothes. Knee-high socks and that comicly large bow tie? He walked away from the mirror, absolutely hating that kid inside it. He needed something to keep his mind off of it so he slowly put his gloves back on. He didn't...feel right without them on. Hopefully that was just out of frustration. He looked around inside the theater and yep, that guy ain't gettin' back up again. The laugh tired to come out again, but he swallowed it. Wait, wasn't there someone else here? Of course, that girl! Where did she get to? He looked around and soon saw that she had huddled herself in the farthest corner of the room. Now he knew why she looked at him with such fear earlier, he was a mess. He walked over to her and got on his knees, trying to comfort her by gently touching her shoulder. She flinched away, eyes never leaving him. He decided to tell her that he wasn't going to hurt her, but when he tried to speak only that nauseating laughter came out.

He clasped his mouth again, feeling stupid for having to do that so much today. He lowered his hand and tried to say something. Anything that resembled English would do, but whatever he tried only insane laugher came out. He covered his mouth again with both hands. Good God, he couldn't talk. He backed away from the girl and a strange muffled wailing noise came from inside him and he couldn't control it. He backed into the same box that the girl had been in where they first met, curled up and began to cry again. It wasn't like before, where it sounded like sobbing, now it just sounded like sick laughter. It was true, he didn't want to believe it but it was true. He was sick. He was mad, deranged, unhinged...insane. He was insane. He laughed all the louder. Now he really couldn't face...well, anyone for that mater. He was a pathetic insane joker-kid. He felt something touch his arm and he slowly looked up. The girl had crawled inside with him and sat right next to him, looking worried. She then did something he wasn't prepared for, she hugged him around his waist. He looked down at this little girl. He was the older one, he should be comforting her, not the other way around. He started to shake, it felt nice. He picked her up and squeezed her like a teddy bear, not even considering if he was hurting her or not.

"Not so tight!" said the little girl, the first thing she said all night. He came back to reality and let her go. She rubbed her arms.

"Ow, you hug too tight." she said looking at him, then she looked down and what ever maturity had been there was gone.

"I want to go home!"

'You and me both,' he said to himself, 'but I can't go back, they would...' the laughter started again, and he held his breath to stop it. He had to do something. Batman would eventually figure it all out. He would come here and see what has happened. He had to do something about it; had to buy time. He looked at the girl and patted her head and pointed to the ground.

'Stay here,' he thought to her, even though he knew she couldn't hear him, 'I have to do something first.' He stood up and looked over at the body. What if he was faking it? It could just be a big fake out and as soon as he got close, he'd grab him. No. Don't be stupid, J. He stopped and smacked his head.

'My name is Tim, not JJ! It's J, no I mean Tim!' he held his head and let the laughter fly out, he was going to have to work on some things, but he had to focus on the mater at hand. He was still chuckling when he touched the body, it felt stiff already. He grabbed the Jokers shoulder and pulled towards himself to flip the body over. The face was...not what he was expecting. He figured the Joker would die with a large, triumphant smile and expression but this? He had no smile what so ever, no expression no nothing. Blank eyes conveyed nothing, didn't even had a hint of malice within. He looked like a normal human, save the skin and the green hair...

'No, no no don't think like that' he said to himself, 'it makes the laugh come out.' He looked down at the dart in his chest. Falling on it had pushed it further inside, but not by much. He took off his gloves again, thinking if he got them dirty, he would get hurt. He put them in his pocket and grabbed the dart and pulled hard. It was stuck. He stood up and put his foot onto the chest and pulled and pushed as hard as he could, causing a little blood to pool out of the wound. It finally came free and he fell flat on his backside.

'Jeez! That was really stuck tight.' he said looking at the bloody rod. The flag had bloodstains on it now, as well as his hands.

'Better hurry,' he thought, 'don't want to get caught...red handed.' He laughed so hard at the lame pun, harder than anyone would have. He forced himself to stop. This wasn't normal; he had to focus on what to do next. He remembered from a story that Bruce had told him that a long time ago the Scarecrow had tried to poison Gotham with a fear toxin via a underground river beneath Arkham, this Arkham. He got up and walked down a hall, looking for a way down to the basement. He couldn't believe that they left this place to rot; why not completely demolish it? Look what happened! He'd have some words with the mayor if he ever met him again. He soon came to a open doorway that led to the basement. He flipped the light switch, hoping that there was power here as well.

The light came on in protest, but then stayed illuminated. He walked down into the basement, walking over broken bits of wall. He looked around and felt so unease down here, but then he saw the doorway that lead to the underground river system. He kept looking around however, looking for a...yes there was one! He picked it up but only saw that it was a coal shovel, but it would have to do. He placed it near the doorway and ran back up to where the body was. Half way back though, his body suddenly felt weak, his legs shook and his head felt light.

'Come on,' he said to himself, 'you have to keep going.' He walked back into the room and reached the body. He picked up the Jokers' legs and didn't realize how heavy they were, or maybe he was weak. He situated himself so he could pull comfortably. He heaved and pulled hard to get the body in motion. My gosh! He must be weak! He had pulled bigger men before like this and now it was if the body weigh three hundred pounds. He had to keep going though, he had to bury the body. It was only right. The Joker may not deserve it, but he was going to get by God. He pulled and pulled, thinking that the hallway must have stretched while he was gone. Finally he reached the basement stairwell. He looked down and wondered how he was going to do this. He put the legs down and got behind the head. He pushed up until the Joker looked like a sitting manikin. He pushed further until the body went violently down the stairs, bones breaking all the way. He looked down, the Joker's body was twisted at the bottom of the stairwell. He started to laugh at it but stopped when he realized how sick it was to do so. He went down the stairs and looked closer at the body. Cuts in the skin and bones broken and his neck was twisted funny. He tried to contain the laugh, but he couldn't fully. He grabbed the legs as best as he could; the left one felt like bending funny where he held it and he began to pull again.

He reached the doorway again that led into the underground caverns. As he pulled the body, he grabbed the coal shovel and put it on the body and continued on. There wasn't much light down here, only emergency lights that must have been installed after what had happened with the Scarecrow. He soon came to a spot that looked like it had soft soil. He picked up the shove and tried his best to dig. Coal shoves he decided made lousy normal shovels. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but he carried on. He had to. If Bruce ever found out...more like when he... He kept digging until he thought it was deep enough. He dropped the shovel and grabbed the Joker's shoulders and pulled him toward the hole. When the Joker's body was parallel with the hole, he got a idea, he started to search the body hoping to find something useful on him. He found a hand gun, that was expected, however instead of throwing it away or leaving where it was, he put it into his own pants pocket. It didn't fit all the way, but for some reason he felt better with it in there.

Keys. He took those. Anything else you sick...yes there was. It was deep and hidden inside, but he felt it near the breast pocket of the vest. He pulled it out and looked at it. It was a old photograph, wrinkled and faded with age. It was a picture of a woman, one he didn't recognize. Now it had some blood speckled on it. He looked at it, then at the Joker. If it were anyone else, he would have left it there on the body, but he put it into his own vest pocket. A small petty victory. He pushed the Joker into the hole, surprisingly he landed face up. However he notice that the hole was too short and the Joker's feet stuck out.

'Wonder if Ted Bundy had this problem' he thought and laughed loudly, it echoed for quiet some time. He took the shovel and corrected the problem; right before he started to shovel the dirt back onto the body he tool one last look at the face and wondered if he should cover it or at least close his eyes. Then he tossed dirt on it. The dirt stuck to the eyes, not flinching, still dead. He laughed and finished the job.

It took longer than he thought to bury the body but he did it. He looked at the small mound of dirt where the Joker would rot away. Kind of fitting, maybe he'd haunt this place and be trapped here forever. Wait, that was a scary idea. He turned away and walked back up with the shovel in hand. He put the shovel back right where he found it. He looked down at his hands, blood and dirt covered them. He slowly walked back to the restroom lost in deep thought. He never thought he would be doing...this. He pushed the idea away, he had other things to do right now. He turned on the faucet and scrubbed his hands. He didn't realize that he was shaking so hard until he looked at his hands. Memories of the past three months started to come out...his 'movies' as he had called them. He tried to control his breathing; couldn't panic and melt down again like he did earlier. He decided to look again in the Joker's office to see if he could find anything more useful to him.

He found the office again, and went over to the desk and tried to pull the draws open, but they were locked. Good think he took those keys off the Joker. He fumbled with the keys, trying all of them with the drawers, however only one worked with one drawer. He opened the drawer and looked inside. There was five large bundles of one hundred dollar bills, some useless papers and some pictures and...he couldn't believe it. He pulled it out and held it up to look at it. His mask, he kept his mask. He gently put it into his vest pocket. He looked around the office, trying to see if there was something else he could use. In the corner of the office, there was a old leather messenger bag. He walked over to it and looked inside, there wasn't anything inside. He put it across his body and adjusted the straps to make it fit properly. He walked back over to the desk, grabbed the bundles of money and shoved them into the bag. He pulled out the gun he took from the Joker and put into the bag as well.

He looked at the papers and saw they were from years ago and were worthless. He tossed them away and found what looked like three magazines for the hand gun he had. He picked them up and into the bag they went. He picked up one of the pictures and...it was him. He looked at another one, again it was him! The Joker documented everything! He took any pictures he could find in the drawer and shoved them into the bag. He then remembered that Harley had been taking pictures and...filming. He had to find that film! He sat and thought about it...if he was...heh..the Joker, where would you present a film to Batman? Wasn't there a projection screen at the top of the operation theater? He walked as fast as his body would allow him back to the operation theater. When he got there, he looked up and sure enough, there was a projection booth up on the second level.

He started toward the booth when his foot stepped on something. He looked down and saw that he had stepped on the toy dart gun. He looked at it for a moment and then bent down and picked it up. He should have buried it with the Joker...but it was too late now. He walked over to the flag dart and picked it up. He carefully put the dart back inside the gun and pulled the plunger. The bloodied flag retracted back inside, and he reluctantly put the gun into his bag. He looked up and saw the girl looking at him. He completely forgot about her, how could he have done that? He walked over to her and held out his hand, deciding to take her up to the booth with him. She looked up at him and hesitantly put her hand in his. He gripped his hand and started toward to the stairs. The upper balcony indeed have a projector inside it. He walked up to it and saw that there was a film in it. He took it off and looked at the film. He could see a tiny Joker in the film, this must be it. He took the film and shoved it into the bulging bag.

'There,' he thought, 'it won't stop him, but it will slow him down. I should be long gone by the time he figures it out...after all he hasn't...' He started to chuckle again, why hadn't they found him yet anyway? Batman was the worlds greatest detective after all. His train of thought was interrupted by the girl pulling his arm.

"Um..are we going home now?" she asked quietly. He looked down and nodded 'yes'. As they started to make their way out of the decaying asylum, he couldn't help but wonder how he was going to pull all this off. He wasn't even sure how he was going to help this girl; it wasn't like he could ask her or even write her a note. He looked down at the girl who was clinging tightly on his arm. He didn't feel like one anymore...but, he was a hero once, he could at least act like one for one more time.

* * *

**Thanks again for reading my story. I hope you like the extra long chapter. I'm quite sure that you know what I've changed in the story, and I hope you stick around for chapter 3. The other Bat members will make their appearance soon! Same with the GPD!**

**If you'd like, I'd appreciate a review. :) See you next update!**


	3. Chapter 3

It was a good thing that the rain had stopped, it was a long walk from the old Arkham grounds to the city and the last thing he needed was to get a head cold. The two walked slowly along the road holding hands; the little girl jumping in puddles. Tim looked up at the sky. The clouds started to break up, revealing the stars high up. He'd forgotten how pretty the night sky was, and the smell of the air after a rainstorm. It was strange, several hours ago he was confused and scared of everything and now he felt completely calm. It probably was best not to think too much about it right now, the other last thing he needed was another panic attack.

"How much longer do we have to walk?" asked the girl. He looked down, shaking his head and raising his shoulders. He really didn't know. He wished though that the city was right around the corner, he was tired and his feet were killing him. Stupid dress shoes weren't made for long walks. The girl suddenly stopped and started to pout.

"I can't walk anymore. I'm tired and cold." He rubbed the back of his neck, she was starting to irritate him and his nerves were already long gone. He bent down and pointed to his back. Luckily she understood what he meant and got onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. He struggled to stand back up, he just felt so weak. He started to walk on, trying to think of what he was going to do with this kid. He couldn't just walk up to the next person and ask them to take her off his hands.

"You're really bony." she said loudly right into his ear. He decided to ignore her, it was bad enough with everything else. He tried to keep walking with her weight, but after about two hundred feet he just couldn't hold her up anymore. He knelt back down and had to let her down. She let go and came around to look at him.

"Are you tired already?" He looked at her. She thought about it and said, "It's OK, I'll just walk on my own." and started to walk away. He went to get back up, but his legs just didn't want to move anymore. The girl looked over her shoulder and walked back over.

"I'll help you up." she chirped and grabbed his arm and started to tug. He got up and folded his arms in frustration. It was embarrassing, a four or five year old girl was helping him stand up. He was just grateful that nobody really used this road anymore after that new highway was built. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to do with her or himself. Maybe she's on the Amber Alert and the cops will be looking for her. He could find the nearest police car then...yeah that sounded like a good idea. It's not that he could ask her where she lived, or even if she knew her own address. After he gets her safe, then he'll find a place to sleep and stay until he was strong enough to leave town. That sounded simple enough at the moment. The girl seemed to have finally warmed up to him because she wouldn't stay quiet. She kept chattering on and on about her dog and her toys. He was starting to wish it was only a few minutes to the nearest cop.

* * *

Eventually, about two hours later the two came up to the outer city limits. It was a sight of relief for him because he was getting tired of hearing the same story over and over again. He looked around; now he had to be careful that nobody saw him. The longer he could stay hidden and not under Batman's radar the more time he had to prepare to leave. As he looked, he spotted a 24 hour diner, and would you look at that, a GCPD cop car! He grabbed her hand and pointed to the car. She looked up and smiled.

"Yeah, mommy says to go to the police when you're in trouble. They'll help us get home!" Oh crap, he hadn't thought about her talking to the police about what happened! She knew...everything. He looked down at her and pointed to himself and then made a shushing gesture. She looked up at him.

"What do you mean? I don't get it." He pointed to the car, then to himself and shushed again. She thought about it.

"You...don't want me to talk to the police?" He shook his head and pointed to himself.

"You don't want me to take to the police about you?" He nodded.

"Why?" He sighed. He always sucked at Charade, and besides he really couldn't stop her from talking even if he wanted to. He shook his head again and grabbed her hand and started toward the diner. As they got closer, the smell of the diner got stronger in the air. His mouth started to water from it; he didn't realize how hungry he was. He had to ignore it for now though. They got to the other side of the street of the diner and he stopped and pointed to the car. She looked at him started to tug at his arm.

"Come on," she said eagerly, "let's go see the police man." He shook his head; pointed to her and then to the diner, then to himself and the ground below.

"You don't want to go," she asked, he nodded, "why?" He didn't answer. She looked at him and gave him one last hug.

"It's OK, I'll go in, and I won't even tell them about you if you don't want me to." He chuckled and hugged her back and as when she entered the diner, he turned and ran as fast as he could away from the street as he could. He knew that the cops would soon be there and he had to get as far away as he could get.

* * *

It had been a long time since he had to walk the streets of Gotham alone at night, but it was late enough that most people were in bed or at least at a safe enough place to wait out the night. He lurked in the shadows, darting out only if he had to. This sucked. He never had to be this stealthy before and now after smelling the cooking food in the diner, it was all he could think about. He came up to a small mom and pop store and looked inside. It looked like it served the neighborhood with a little of everything from groceries to clothes. He walked to the back and saw a second door, probably lead into the store's storage area. He walked over to it and saw it was only locked with a cheep lock. He picked up a rock and smashed it off with three strikes. He opened the door and peeked inside, looking around for security cameras or any other form of security. He didn't see any so he went inside.

The store was quaint, felt very 1800's. There were stairs leading up to the second story of the building. Probably where the owners lived, he thought. Dropping the rock midway in, he walked over to the clothing racks and looked for some clothes his size. There was no way he could go running around in a purple suit and not be noticed. He found a par of grey sweat pants, a bit too large but it was the only pair that would remotely fit him. Then he found a black hoodie; again too big but it would have to do. He put the pants and hoodie on right then and there; didn't want to get rid of the suit just yet. He'd have to burn it so Bruce wouldn't find it. He looked over at a display with some makeup for women. He walked up to it and picked up some skin foundation. He couldn't go around with white skin. He picked up several foundation creams and a couple of 'natural color' lipstick and put them into his bag. He looked over to the clothing again and picked out a hat and a pair of sunglasses and put the hat on and put the glasses into the bag. As he put the glasses into his bag, he pulled out one of the stacks of hundreds he had taken with him. He pulled out about two thousand dollars and placed it on the counter.

'There,' he thought, 'go buy yourselves a better security system.' He chuckled as he started to make his way over the fridges to grab something to eat. He just grabbed a quarter gallon of milk when the door of the second floor opened up and the lights came on.

"Who's down here laughing like a helium sucking hyena and about to get their heads smashed in with a baseball bat?!" yelled out a angry man. Tim ducked down, luckily he was in the blind spot of the stairs, but he was ten feet away from the back door. The man descended the stairs in pajama bottoms and a baseball bat, ready to take a swing at anything. He slowly made his way around the store, not knowing what to run into. Tim looked around, hoping to find something to help him out. He spotted the rock that he had used to break into the place, it was only about three feet from him. He crept his way toward the rock and picked it up. The man was looking around near the store's front window, looking into the clothing racks. He raised his arm and aimed at the window.

'Batter up!'

The rock flew through the air and broke the window, causing the store owner raise his arms defensively. With him distracted, Tim ran out the back door and further down the alleyway. He climbed over the wooden wall ran across the street and down another alleyway. Hoping he had run far enough, he started to walk quickly down the road.

'Helium sucking hyena' he thought to himself, 'got to admit, that's pretty good.' He laughed again, but this time tried to keep quiet. He looked around; it seemed that most of this part of the neighborhood had died. Building doors and windows were boarded up, the buildings themselves looked old and tired. He knew better than to go into places like that. Scumbags and gangs used places like those, it wasn't safe. There was only a few places that seemed to have some life left inside them. One of them was a bakery. He looked inside the window like before and eyed the day old breads and pastries and his mouth watered again. He looked around and again found a back entrance. This one however had a better lock and there weren't and bricks or rocks to help him out this time. He looked around, and called back to his days fending for himself on the streets, when he had to steal to survive. He lifted the doormat and sure enough, there was a key there. He opened the lock and placed the key right where he had found it and entered. The smell of bread and pies hit him as he entered, but it was faint. This area was part of the bakery, but it was used for storage. Large flour bags piled high and extra ingredients lined up neatly on shelves. There was a large old brick oven in the back of the room, it was covered in flour and dust and had a large crack down the front of it.

'The oven looks broken,' he thought, 'they probably have another one somewhere and just haven't bothered to take this one out.' He opened the gate and looked inside. It was surprisingly clean for a oven. The door was large enough to fit a small man inside and the inside of it was deep enough to fit a car. He looked around, hoping to find another way into the bakery to get at the food inside. Unfortunately, this door was locked and there didn't seem to be a key anywhere. He smacked the door bitterly; food was just right there and he was too tired to do anything about it. Running from the shop earlier took what was left of his strength. He turned and looked on the shelves, hoping that there wold be...something. He did find something, it was a halve of a loaf of sourdough bread. It was probably used for sandwiches for the employees but was left out so it got stale. He didn't care if it was stale, it was food and that was good enough for him.

He sat on the flour sacks that were stacked on a wooden pallet and took a big bite out of the loaf. The bread was hard to chew, but he opened the milk he had managed to take with him and took a swig of it. He didn't realize how bad his hunger was until he started to eat. His arms shook and he nearly choked from not chewing enough. He chortled between each bite, not caring if he was or wasn't, it was just nice to eat something. He ran out of bread before milk, so he swigged the last of it as fast as he could. He felt alive again. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie and pulled the hood down, taking the hat off as well. He was still hungry, but what he had would do for now.

'I wonder when the bakery workers come in?' he wondered to himself. He didn't even know the time or date. He could only have a few minutes until they came and found him. He should look for somewhere else to stay, but eating made exhaustion catch up with him. He looked over to the oven and hope that the workers never opened it. He walked over to it and crawled into the brick oven and left the oven door slightly ajar. It was dark inside, but he didn't care. He crawled to a corner and curled up. He would plan the next step after he woke up, trying to ignore the hunger that was still there, trying to forget that he killed someone...forget everything like before. He tried not to, but right before he fell asleep, a bitter laugh came out again just to remind him of everything.

* * *

Three months.

Three long damn months and still nothing. He had used every favor at the Blüdhaven police station, looked under every rock and punched every face he had to, to find out anything about Robin and there was nothing. Bruce told him that he had everything under control in Gotham and for him to keep looking outside of Gotham. Bullshit. He wasn't staying away any longer; he should have come sooner. Dick was going much faster than the speed limit on his motorcycle, but he didn't care. He'd be lucky if he caught Bruce and Barbra returning to the Batcave at this rate.

He finally reached Wane Manner, the place looked more dreary than usual and that was a feat in itself. He parked the bike and took off his helmet. He took two steps at a time up the stairs and rang the doorbell, trying to wait patiently. The door opened and there stood one of the only men in the world he had more respect for that Bruce.

"Master Dick," said Alfred, "it's so good to see you again; though I wish it were under better circumstances"

"It's good to see you to, Alfred," he said without a smile, "how are you holding up?"

He looked Alfred over. Alfred was always the gentle voice of reason and understanding. He always seemed to know what to do and what to say to make everything right again. He was the rock; the anchor of the family and the safe port for any emotional situation. He never looked tired or ever frustrated with any situation. He always had clean pressed clothes and his posture was always strait and proper, but now. He looked tired. It was the only word for it. Dick looked at Alfred's always pressed cloths and saw that they had been slept in. Alfred would have never done that in any situation.

"As well as to be expected, Master Dick," Alfred said with a sigh, "we all have been searching night and day for young Master Timothy."

"I can see that," said Dick looking at his clothes again, "Alfred, you've been sleeping in your suit, haven't you?" Alfred normally would have been appalled at the very notion, but he seemed to sink into his own skin and said.

"While Master Bruce and Miss Gordon are out on the streets, I've stayed behind and monitored the computer in the cave to see if anything is referred to anything that may lead us to Master Timothy. I hate to admit it, but I have fallen asleep at the monitor a few times."

"We're all tired Alfred," Dick said placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder, "and you're doing an important job." Alfred seemed to perk up after that and smiled.

"Do you know when Bruce and Barbra will be back?"

"They often don't return for over forty-eight hours," Alfred said while leading him toward the Batcave entrance, "Miss Gordon's grades are failing, and Bruce Wayne has been on 'extended vacation' for the past two and a half months. Quite frankly, I'm worried for Master Bruce."

"What, for old Bruce," said Dick as they walked down the steps, "for the man who can do no wrong, the man who can solve anything, for the man with no heart?"

"Master Dick, please," said Alfred tiredly, "I know you and Master Bruce are currently not on the best of terms at the moment but do try to keep it to one insult at a time." Dick nodded, he didn't want to upset Alfred.

"Master Bruce hardly eats or sleeps," said Alfred calmly, "he barley talks to me or Miss Gordon, and," he said leaning in closer and lowering his voice, "he has been ignoring other crimes. He does not even answer the Batsignal." Dicks eyes widened.

"He's never done that."

"I know," said Alfred sadly, "and he's also becoming more and more violent." Dick was going to say something, but stopped when he heard the Batmobile's engine echo inside the cave. He turned and walked toward where the Batmobile would park and calmly waited for the inevitable 'why are you here' speech.

The Batmobile roared one last time before silencing and the canopy opened. Batman jumped immediately out and marched toward the Batcomputer while Batgirl slowly exited the car, clearly tired.

"I thought I told you to keep looking in Blüdhaven." Batman said without even looking at Dick.

"I've looked everywhere there was to look at," Dick said trying to keep his temper down, "asked every favor I had on the force. There isn't anywhere else to look." Batman ignored him, too busy typing on the computer. Dick turned toward Barbra, saw how tired she looked.

"We've searched nearly the entire east side of Gotham," she said taking off her cowl, "and still no sign." She looked over at Batman as he continued his search on the computer.

"Bruce," she said quietly, "we've been up for nearly 42 hours. You only had a four hour nap before that and that was after 57 hours of searching. We need food and rest." Bruce didn't say anything.

"Please Bruce," Barbra pleaded, "you need to rest yourself." Bruce turned toward her and shot her a look that would have made the Scarecrow wet himself.

"I will rest when Tim is found, until then I will keep looking."

"And what if you find him," Dick interrupted, "you find him and you're too weak and tired to do anything about it?"

"Master Dick is right, sir," said Alfred gently, "you must rest yourself. It would not do any good for you to be at your worst when Master Tim needs you at your best." Batman scowled at all three of them, the lack of sleep was quite evident on his face, even for Batman.

"I'll go out and keep looking," said Dick, "you three get some sleep. We'll do rotating shifts. That way everyone can rest."

"That sounds pretty good to me," said Barbra, Bruce did not say anything. He turned back to the computer and kept typing. Alfred walked up to him and placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Pleas sir, for Tim."

Bruce sighed, removed his cowl and looked at his closest friend. Alfred always had a way with Bruce, one that everyone wished they could learn how to do it. Bruce slowly rose out of the chair and finally showed just how tired he was.

"Go check near the west docks," he said to Dick as he slowly ascended the stairs to the mansion, "the clubs and bars down there always secrete information." Alfred followed close behind, ready to help out his master and then rest himself.

Dick walked over to where the costumes were stored away, picking out a spare Nightwing one. He quickly changed into them and was just about to put on his mask.

"Dick," He looked up and saw Barbra holding herself, tears flowing down her face, "I don't think that we're going to find him alive anymore. It's been too long. It's just been too long." He walked up to her and held her in his arms. She felt so limp in them, she buried her face into his chest.

"We'll find him," he said to her, "no mater what. We'll find him."

"I'm beginning to doubt that as well." she said quietly. Dick sighed, he didn't really know what to say to make it better.

"Has Bruce told the league yet?"

"No, he hasn't," she said sadly; anger started to swell in Dick's chest, "I don't think he is going to tell them either."

"Yeah, his damn ego and pride gets in the way for that."

"Dick..."

He let her go and waved his arm around in frustration.

"Barbra! He has friends that can see through walls, run faster than sound and other abilities that could have helped find Tim and yet," he said putting on his mask, "he doesn't want to ruin his precious reputation! He's Batman! Batman never asks for help! It's his damned fault for taking on another sidekick, a young sidekick! Tim is only ten years old! Yeah I was eight when I started, but I wasn't even allowed outside the cave and in costume for at last a year with extensive training, Tim started three weeks after he was 'recruited'!"

"Dick, stop." Barbra said sternly.

"No Barb, I'm not going to," he said angrily, "it has to be said. The only thing Bruce ever loved in his life was his parents. Everything else is disposable and the only thing he remotely shows any interest in, is if it is useful in his goddamned war. If Tim is really dead out there," he got on a bike and put on his helmet, "it's all on his head." He revved the engine and speed out of the cave. Barbra stood there, watching him leave the cave. She was too tired to do anything right now, she had to get some sleep. She walked toward the computer and looked up at the screen. It seemed that missing girl had been found safely after she had been missing for two days. She smiled, at least that story had a happy ending.

* * *

He woke up screaming. He didn't remember the nightmare but he woke up screaming. He felt utterly dislocated; didn't even remember where he was. He tried to stop screaming, but it was like the laughter, it just kept coming out. He somehow stopped himself from screaming and had to settle for the laughter that replaced it. The laughter was the worst, it hurt every time it came out and it seemed to have a mind of it's own. It lived deep within him and would only come out at the worst time, just to spite him. He tried to catch his breath again when he suddenly remembered where he was. He listened to see if the bakery workers had heard him. He didn't hear anything. He peaked out of the crack of the oven and saw that nothing had been moved. He crawled out and listened at the door of the bakery. Nothing. The Bakery was closed.

He looked out the small widows and could see daylight, so it must have been a weekend day or a holiday. He sighed, relieved that it was closed. He would have been surely caught otherwise. He got up and stretched, he felt stiff from sleeping on the hard bricks in the oven. He also felt hot with all the layers of clothes. He took off the hoodie and the sweat pants; and looked at the purple suit he was wearing. He hated formal clothes, they were so restrictive. He unbuttoned his green vest, pulled off his outer coat and the vest and tie, pulled off the Purple suspenders and unbuttoned the green dress shirt. He open it up and looked down. There were so many scars. Scars that were white, scars that were a light purple color and new scars that were still healing. They were all over his chest and stomach. He looked around for a bathroom, hoping that there was one in the storage of the bakery. Thankfully there was one. He went inside and looked inside the mirror. He turned to look at his back and there were just as many scars. Burn scars, knife scars; scars of all kinds. Why didn't he remember any of this? He remember bit's and pieces, but the rest was a blur; locked away in his head. While in the bathroom, he did his business and as he washed his hands, he looked at his arms. Just as scarred as the rest of him. He would have to wear long sleeved shirts from now on or else people would think he was cutting himself.

He walked back over to the pile of clothes and went to put on the hoodie, but then felt sick. He just got a sick, painful feeling that if he didn't put the suit back on...

'It's just in my head,' he told himself, 'I don't have to wear it.' He put the hoodie on and took off the dress pants and put on the sweat pants. He started to gather up the clown costume, trying to think of what to burn them in. He started to feel itchy. His skin started to itch and burn like as if he had rolled around stinging nettle. He also started to feel claustrophobic and panicky. He took off the hoodie and pants and started to put back on the suit. As soon as he got the dress shirt and pants with straps back on, he started to feel better.

'Great, not only can't I talk,' he thought bitterly, 'but now I can't go without the stupid suit.' It must have been burned into his mind to wear the suit at all times. He felt sick without it. It took some time to put the tie back in, but he eventually was returned to his clownish glory.

'At least I can wear clothes outside of them,' he thought. He walked back to the oven and pulled his bag out. He dug inside it and pulled out the makeup he took and looked at it.

'I can put this on and get a bus or train ticket out of town,' he thought to himself, 'but I don't even know what part of town I'm in.' He felt his face and laughed. How stupid was he, he could put on gallons of makeup but he still had that stupid grin to cover up. In this town, it was always a bad idea to walk into any business with anything on your face. It was a miracle they hadn't banned Halloween yet.

He sat back down and put his head into his hands. This was going to be harder than he thought. He didn't really want to leave, but he also couldn't go back to Wayne Manner and face the others. He didn't want to think how the would look down at him. Faces full of disgust. Batman had a strict code. Anyone who broke the law had to face justice. He started to laugh at the thought; covering his mouth again because of it. They'd take one look at him and throw him in the nut box. He didn't want the Mad Hatter as a roommate. His head was still swimming, making him sick to his stomach again. He couldn't just sit here either, eventually Batman was going to find out about what happened. He'll know everything. He'll know he let him down, how weak he had been. The laughter started to get louder, making his stomach ache all the worse. He closed his eyes and tried to think what would be best to do.

'What were you thinking Tim,' said the voice that sounded so much like Dick, 'telling him everything like that!?'

'Guess you're just a little kid after all.' sighed the one that sounded like Barbra.

'Batman should have picked a stronger person for the job' sighed the voice that sounded like Commissioner Gordon

'Kid's a loser!' said the Bullock voice. The voices started to talk over one another and everything was just so loud that he just wanted it to stop. They all stopped suddenly.

You disappointed me,' said Batman's voice, 'you're not even fit to be called Tim, let alone Robin, JJ.' His eyes darted open and he panted as the voices finally stopped. Batman was right. Tim Drake was dead. Robin was dead. There could only be JJ now. He felt more comfortable with that name now anyway. Bruce and the others would mourn the death of poor Tim Drake and they would move on, his old name honored for falling in the line of duty.

Yeah, he could live with that.

* * *

**Thanks again for sticking around and reading! Reviews are always appreciated and welcomed. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Police reports were the worst part of the job, there was no doubt about it. He had been doing them for over fifteen years, but they never got any easier to do. Harvey Bullock was no stranger to the fact that his choice of words were never favorable with the police board, but that never stopped him from continuing to write it his way. That never bothered him, in fact he sometimes liked having to have internal affairs take another stab at him, gave him a good laugh. What bothered him the most about it was that they just took so long to do when he could be out there on the streets doing some actual good and not doing this paper-pusher crap.

"You must be writing your reports," Renee Montoya said placing the cup of coffee and a halve a dozen doughnuts she brought over to share.

"No, I'm doin' my taxes," he said sarcastically, picking out a doughnut and taking a bite out of it, "besides, how do you know what I am or what I ain't doin'?"

"You always look constipated when you do your reports," she smiled at him, "besides there really isn't much work out there right now."

"There's always work to do in this city." he said turning back to his report.

"Well yeah," she said, "but it's weird. Normally we would be out there hunting down a gang or trying to stop the next big drug wave, but here we are, trying to keep awake. Hell, you're almost caught up with your paperwork, I thought that would never happen." Bullock glared up at her.

"Your point?"

"I'm just saying that for Gotham to be this quiet is weird," she said taking a sip of coffee, "I've never seen the crime rates so low, and for so long before." Bullock was about to say something when he saw Commissioner Gordon walk in.

"Hey Commish," he said to him, "what's up? Got any new cases for us to work on? I'm itching to go back out on the street and busting butts out there." Gordon looked at him, and almost seemed sad to say:

"Sorry Bullock, but there's just nothing going on right now." Montoya looked at him. It was strange, crime was at a all time low and Jim looked like he wanted to jump off a bridge.

"Is something wrong Commissioner," she asked him gently, "you look like as if crime was at a all time high instead of a low."

"I'm just worried on why it is." he said sadly.

"What, your worried about the freak now Jim," Bullock said dismissively, "come on, even you got to admit the Bat was always nuts. It's not your fault that he's gone into overdrive."

"It is odd that Batman has been more active," Montoya said, "but are you really that worried about him?" Gordon looked at the two detectives.

"All I can say is if you knew him like I do," he said walking toward his office, "you'd be worried too." After he closed the door, Montoya and Bullock exchanged concerned looks.

Commissioner Gordon walked over to his desk and sat down. He should be happy, they were right but, it wasn't normal for Batman to flat-out ignore him or major crimes. Something was wrong, he could feel it and he didn't even know what it was or how he could help his old friend. He felt a breeze, and quickly turned to the window.

"Batman?" he asked almost eagerly. No, it wasn't Batman, but a friend none the less.

"Oh, it's only you Nightwing," he said sinking back down into his chair, "I was hoping it was Batman." Jim then thought about it.

"Wait a minute," he said turning back to him, "it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon; from what I understand is that you guys are practically nocturnal. What brings you here at this time of day?" Nightwing looked at him, his expression never changed from the cold seriousness that he came in with. Normally, even after he had grown up from the role of Robin, he usually had a smile or a joke to break things up. This was not like him at all.

"Robin's gone missing."

"How long?" Jim said quietly.

"Three months."

"That's about when Batman started to get more violent. You know he use to break bones in the past, but lately he's been crippling them," Gordon said to Nightwing.

"We've done our best looking for him," Nightwing said, "and we've come up with noting. I know Batman want's this to stay quiet, but..."

"I understand," Jim said, "I'd like to help in anyway I can. I can have the boys looking..."

"Keep the circle small Commissioner," Nightwing warned, "It's going to be bad enough that I've told you."

"Ok, I'll have just the two in mind. They'll be the only ones who'll know. I promise you that." Nightwing nodded and turned to leave.

"Before you go," Gordon asked, "can you answer me something?" Nightwing turned and looked at him. "Is there any reason why he didn't tell me sooner?"

"I don't know Commissioner," he said turning back to the window, "you'll have to ask him yourself." and with that he jumped out of the window silently. Jim turned back to his desk and pressed the intercom button on it.

"Bullock; Montoya...in my office now."

* * *

The first thing he was going to go do after this was go to the nearest hardware store and buy a lock pick set. He had been smashing the door handle for about ten minutes and had gone through about three bricks in the process. Hunger was driving him to break into the other side of the bakery and he was getting frustrated, he had to dig at the old oven's crack to dig out some bricks and that took some time to do so. He kept smashing and smashing, hoping to break the door handle soon. Finally, one last smash and the thing finally broke. He backed up and kicked the door where Bruce had trained him to, making the door finally pop open. He had tried doing that earlier, but all he did was hurt his leg. He looked around again to make sure that there wasn't any security of any sort and like before there wasn't. Finally, a little bit of luck in a long time. He picked out a loaf of bread and started to eat it, it didn't matter what kind to him. He only managed to get about six bites in when he started to feel sick.

'Must of ate too quick,' he thought to himself, 'better stop for now.' He put the bread down and decided to look around, away from the window. He looked in the kitchen and saw all the bread making equipment and saw something he didn't expect to see: surgical masks.

'Why would a bakery have these?' he thought to himself. It turned out that there was an employee allergic to gluten, and would wear them so they wouldn't get sick. It didn't mater though why they where there, but the fact that they were there was just perfect. It was still a bad idea in Gotham to ware a mask of any form, but a surgical mask on a kid would just make him look like he had a cold. He grabbed a hand full and ran back to the back of the bakery. He put all but one of the masks into his bag and pulled out one of the makeup foundations and one of the lipsticks and headed for the bathroom. He took off his gloves and then looked at the makeup.

'How do you put this stuff on?' he thought. It's not like he ever asked Barbra on how to do it. He opened the makeup and put some on his hand. It was runnier than he was expecting. He started to put it on his face, over his eyes and down his neck. Soon, his face was a normal color, but with the white undercoat, he looked pale. That was fine, it would help out with his mask. He put on (as best as he could) the lipstick because he was already feeling fabulous anyway. He laughed at the idea and in doing so, he smeared the lipstick on his face. After cleaning that up, he went over to his spare clothes and put them on, including the glasses and the mask he left out. He looked like a sick, gang-banger wannabe.

'Oh well,' he thought, 'it's the best I can do for now.' He tossed the bread he had been eating away into the garbage, he just didn't feel good enough to finish it. He also pulled out enough money he felt to repay for all the damages he had done and a little extra for a security system. He took one last look around the place to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything and then closed the door behind him. He made himself appear small, he didn't want to attract attention to himself as much as he could help it. All he had to do now was find out where he was.

* * *

Nightwing looked in every place that he figured Batman would never think to look for Robin, but still came up empty. He felt tired, not the good kind of tired when you've been smashing in faces all night, but that empty tired when you haven't done anything important. He parked the motorcycle inside the cave and removed his helmet, looking the cave. Despite his anger with Bruce right now, he always enjoyed returning to the cave. Just something about it made it feel like home. Of course he would never forget the circus life he once had, but this was the second closest thing too it. He walked over to the Batcomputer and looked to see if any reports came in; nothing. He sighed, perhaps Barbra was right. Perhaps it was time to prepare to look for a body rather than finding him alive. It had been a long time, and most kidnapping cases rarely ended with a happy ending. He heard someone enter the cave and he looked up. Alfred descended the stairs with a dinner tray in hand and a small smile on his face.

"Welcome back, Master Dick," he said placing the tray down and lifting the plate cover, "I've taken the liberty in making your favorite dish for your dinner."

"Thanks Alfred," he said walking over to him, "you seem like you're feeling better." Alfred's smile seemed to drop some.

"It does one good to get rest, however mine was rather...hindered by my mind." Dick nodded in understanding. "I fear that you haven't found anything." Dick nodded again.

"Not a thing, but I did do something that Bruce should have done already. I told Gordon."

"You know Master Bruce will be most upset when he finds out."

"He should have been asking for help months ago Alfred," Dick said, trying not to raise his voice, "you know he should have. He's got so many friends that could have possibly found him the first night and yet he chooses not to use them! I'm sorry Alfred, but we need all the help we can get." Alfred didn't say anything, he always kept things to himself but Dick knew that Alfred agreed with him. They heard someone else come down the stairs and saw Bruce already in costume march down the steps.

"Anything?" he asked Dick.

"Nothing. I checked everywhere I though you wouldn't have already checked, listened for any hints about anything that could have..."

"Rest up and report back here to go check the north side with Batgirl in two hours," he said grabbing a fresh utility belt, "I'm going to go check the south side again; that's where most children end up when they're kidnapped."

"Bruce," Dick said walking toward him, "You and Barbra have checked and rechecked everywhere in Gotham. He's not here. If he's alive, he's probably not even in the country anymore." Batman glared over at him.

"Our best bet is to find out when and where he went missing, and there is always someone who talks."

"Bruce," Dick said finally reaching his limit on patients, "even you have to admit it's getting pretty hopeless we'll find him alive. If you didn't have such a damn ego, you would have called for help earlier! What ever has happened to Tim," he said finally losing his temper, "is completely your fault!" Batman slowly looked at Dick, and for the first time in his life, Dick was slightly afraid of him and instinctively took a fighting pose. Alfred quietly cleared his throat to gain their attention.

"It seems that the sensors have picked up that the Batsignal has been turned on," he said in his gentle commanding tone, "perhaps you should see what the Commissioner needs of you." Batman didn't react at first, but then walked over to the Batmobile and jumped inside.

"We'll discus this later." he said coldly to Dick. The car roared to life and sped out of the cave. Dick sighed and turned to face Alfred and for the first time he saw true anger in his face.

"I know we're all on edge Master Dick, but Master Bruce is teetering on the edge and I sincerely hope you just didn't push him off of it."

"You're taking his side," he asked in surprise, "really Alfred!? You of all people should know what he's done is all kinds of wrong! He took someone who wasn't ready out into the field and now look what's happened! Am I the only one who see's him for what he really is? Am I the only one who has the guts to tell him that he's wrong?"

"Master Dick..."

"No Alfred," Dick said, his anger finally released, "it's time to call him out on it. He's had his way for far too long. He's been enabled to do as he pleases!"

"Sir..."

"And you're just as much to blame for letting him do it in the first place!" Dick paused, then started to curse himself. He looked at Alfred and saw that he did hurt him.

"Alfred," he said quietly, "I...I really didn't mean that." Alfred straitened up, knowing his pride had been wounded but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

"No, Master Dick," he said proudly, "you meant every word. Do you think I don't question it myself," he said looking hard at him, "do you think I don't loose sleep at night, worrying about all of you, wondering if this is the night that you don't come home and I read about you in the morning papers? That I don't think about what I have done?" He looked away. "I have quietly wondered to myself all these years, wondering if I had done the right thing in letting Bruce become what he is today. So Master Dick," he said looking back at him, "you are right. In the end, it truly is my fault in the first place in allowing Master Bruce in becoming what he is, it's my fault that Tim is missing right now."

"Alfred..."

"Now if you'll excuse me," he said turning away, "I have my duties to attend to." He walked away, head held high and proud; only masking the pain that he felt. Dick watched him leave the cave and he sat down on the computer chair and held his head. He felt so stupid right now. He never meant to hurt Alfred. He sighed and looked back at the dinner that had been prepared for him. He felt so low right now. He quietly started to eat it, hoping to get some rest before Barbra came down to go out again, hoping that he wouldn't snap at her as well...again.

* * *

Gordon stood there, patiently waiting. He would wait all night if he had to, but he was going to talk to him. He looked at his watch, the signal had been on for nearly two hours. He looked back at the sky. He soon saw him, swinging toward him. Batman landed quietly like a cat, and walked over to him, from the way he walked and carried himself he seemed...agitated that he had been called.

"What is it Jim?" Batman coldly asked.

"It's about time you showed up," Jim said just as cold, "this is the first time in two months." Batman scowled at him and started to turn away.

"I know about Robin," Jim said, making Batman freeze, "Nightwing told me earlier today." Batman didn't move or say anything.

"Listen," Gordon said, his voice melting from the cold hard talk to a understanding tone, "you and the others have done so much for this city and I could never imagine what I would do if my Barbra was gone that long. I was going out of my mind when Freeze took her, but that was only a few days. I can't imagine how you feel right now, but as your friend, let me help you. I owe you that much at least." Jim looked at him, his back was still turned toward him so he continued on,

"I've sent my best detectives on the case," he said "and I gave them strict orders on not to say anything to anyone and they are to report to me as soon as they find anything out of the ordinary. They're following up on an earlier case right now, but as soon as they're done with that, their only job is to help find Robin. I'll do my part as well. I'll pull favors if I have too; we'll do our best to find him." Batman didn't move for the longest time, he almost looked like a statue. Finally Batman pulled out a grapnel and fired it at the nearest building; swinging away. Jim sighed; Batman and his teammates were like family to him. He was always concerned when Nightwing was Robin and was just as concerned when this spunky Robin came around. If it were his son, he probably would have never allowed him to do it.

* * *

"How is she adjusting?" Montoya asked Mr. Fields about his daughter, writing down notes.

"She seems to be doing well," Mr. Fields said holding his wife's hands in his, "she acts like nothing happened."

"Yes," said Mrs. Fields, "the doctor said that there was nothing wrong with Casey physically and doesn't act like anyone molested her, thank God," she said rubbing her forehead, "but he thinks that she's not telling him everything."

"What do you mean?" Montoya asked, writing notes down.

"Well," Mr. Fields said looking at her, "she won't go into details. She said a woman took her and a man watched her, but that's all. She wont say how she got away or how she got clear on the other side of town...It's just strange." Montoya finished writing her notes and looked over at Bullock, he looked barely interested. She wondered how he solved any case.

"Do you mind if I and Detective Bullock ask your daughter a few questions?"

"If it you can find out who took her," Mrs. Fields said, "I just can't sleep at night knowing her kidnappers are still out there. What if they tried again?"

"I understand your concern Mr. and Mrs. Fields," Montoya said while standing up, "but we need to find out anything we can about it." They nodded in agreement.

"She's up in her room, second door to your right." said Mr. Fields. Montoya started to walk toward the stairway with Bullock close behind. Montoya knocked on the door.

"Casey? Are you in there," she asked, "Detective Bullock and I would like to ask you a few questions, can we come in?"

"Yes!" pipped up a small voice inside. Bullock and Montoya entered the pink and white room, toys and stuffed animals strewn about the place. Casey was near one of the corners of the room having a pretend tea party.

"Hello Casey," Montoya said sweetly, "do you know what we are?"

"The police." Casey said looking at them.

"That's right; we need to ask you some more questions about..."

"Here," said Casey giving Montoya and Bullock plastic tea cups and saucers, "we'll have a tea party." Bullock looked at the pink plastic cup,

"There ain't no tea."

"Well, it's pretend tea," Casey said to him, "you have to pretend."

"Yeah Bullock," said Montoya smiling at him, "haven't you ever played tea party?" Bullock glared at her and mumbled to himself:

"I hate working with kids." Montoya took a pretend sip of tea and then said:

"Ok, now Casey, we need to talk about what happened three days ago. When the bad guys took you away."

"Yeah, I was at preschool."

"That's right," said Montoya, "and your teacher said that a woman picked you up; she said that she was your mother's sister. She was a mean liar, wasn't she?"

"Yeah," said Casey, "I was scared."

"Why don't you tell us about her then," said Bullock, "and about where she took you?"

"Because I said I wouldn't." Casey said. Bullock and Montoya glanced quickly at each other.

"Who did you promise that too, sweetie?" asked Montoya.

"Somebody." said Casey, looking away.

"Was it somebody nice?" asked Montoya.

"Yeah, he carried me on his back."

"Can you tell us more kid," asked Bullock, "how he looked, what he wore?" Casey shook her head.

"I said I wouldn't say." Montoya thought of another tactic to maker her say something.

"Was it fun when he carried you?"

"Yeah," she said, "it was fun walking in the woods. I splashed in the puddles. I wished we didn't walk for so long though; I got tired and my feet hurt after that."

"How long did you walk for?" Montoya asked, having a good idea what she was talking about.

"I don't know," she said, "a long time."

"One last question," Montoya said leaning in close, "and it's really important that you're honest with me." Casey nodded.

"Did the bad man and lady look like clowns?" Casey was quiet, but nodded.

"You did a very good job," Montoya said, reaching into her pocket and pulled out her notebook to write everything down, "you're a very brave little girl." Casey smiled at her.

"Come on Bullock," she said, "I have a good idea where they took her."

"So do I," said Bullock, "I can put two and two together too, you know. And I've been doing this longer than you have." Montoya and Bullock descended the stairs and went back to Mr. and Mrs. Fields.

"We have a pretty good idea where she's been and who took her," said Montoya, "we'll let you know more when it becomes available." Bullock and Montoya entered their squad car; Montoya picked up the scanner.

"Commissioner Gordon? Montoya here." There was static for a second then a scratchy voice.

"What is it Montoya, have you gotten any further in that kidnapping case?"

"Yes sir," she said, "we think we know who took her and where."

"Great, come back to my office so I can assign another team to apprehend them. I want you with me to work the Robin case." Bullock took the scanner from Montoya.

"It ain't that easy Commish," he said, "we think it was the Joker and his henchwench that took her, and we think they kept her at the old Arkam building. It makes sense because the road where she was found leads up there." There was a pause.

"Commish?"

"I don't want you two to go it alone, let me call in some help. Wait ten minutes and then start heading toward there, but if you two go in there and they are there so help me you're badges will be on my desk before the night's through."

"Copy that." Montoya said taking back the scanner.

* * *

It had taken some time, but he finally was in familiar territory. J.J. had finally found a newsstand that carried a map of Gotham city; he couldn't believe how long it took him to do so. It was getting dark, he wasn't going to make it to the train station tonight. It was still about ten miles away. He looked up at the street signs and then back down to his map, he was near Park Row, more commonly known as Crime Alley. This was one of the worst areas he could be in right now, this was practically Batman's hangout. He had to find some shelter soon, because if Batman saw him walking around the streets after dark, he would swoop down and ask questions that he literally couldn't answer. He looked around and soon found a building that was most likely a drug den, but it was his best bet on short notice. He looked around and saw the fire escape was still intact, but it required him to build a small tower to get to it. He moved some trash cans and built the best tower he could make. After getting a hold of the ladder, he kicked over the trash cans, so it didn't look like someone climbed up like he did. He got to about the third floor when he looked inside.

The building was abandoned, but it looked like nobody had been inside in a long time, at least the third floor. He tried his luck and tried to open the window. Success! He just hoped his luck would carry him out of Gotham at least before it ran out. He crawled inside and closed the window behind him, locking it. The building smelled dusty and like rotting wood. He took a couple of steps inside the abandoned apartment, feeling the floor wanting to give in. Perhaps this wasn't the safest place to say in. He tried to turn on the lights, but the power had been long gone in this place. He tried looking around, hoping the previous owners left a candle or something. No such luck this time. He would have to find a place to sleep in before it got completely dark. He looked around and soon came into a room that looked like it was a baby's room. There were faded cartoon characters on the wall and the only bit of furniture in it was a old crib.

'This will have to do." he thought. He lowered the cribs side and flipped over the mattress so it wouldn't be so dusty. The window of the room was a perfect spot to look out for Batman or cops, just as long as he stayed away from it, he should be fine. He put his things inside of the crib and decided while he had some light he would explore the house. He looked inside the kitchen, it was bare. He looked at the old living room...there was a large hole inside of it. He crept carefully to it and looked down. It reached all the way to the first floor.

'Nasty fall,' he thought, 'better stay away from here.' He then found the bathroom. He tried turning the faucet to see if there was any water in this old dump. There was, but it wasn't preferable to drink. The water was rusty and smelled odd. He looked around and found a towel. He took off his mask, hat and outer clothes and decided to wash up. He put the towel under the water and rung it out as best as he could and started to rub the makeup off. The water smelled worse up close and the towel was itchy, but it did the job well enough to get the just as itchy makeup off. How could girls ware this stuff all day and every day? He looked into the broken mirror to make sure he got it all. He looked tired. He sighed and gathered his things; walked back toward the bedroom. He put his clothes by his bag and hopped into the crib. If Dick saw him now, he would never live it down. He made a makeshift pillow out of his clothes and tried to relax. His thoughts were so hard to control anymore, they would jump around and come up with their own ideas. He tried thinking on where he should go to. Perhaps somewhere quiet and with a small population. Maybe like Smallville Kansas. Nothing seemed to happen there...except tornadoes, yuck never mind. He felt a pain in his stomach; he had forgotten to eat after leaving the bakery and he had only eaten six bites of bread. It was fine though, he seemed familiar with the pain now and soon it would go away and bother him later. He sat up, his head was running too fast for him to relax, so he looked inside his bag.

There was plenty of money still for him to get a train ticket of his choice. He would use the money until it ran out...then what? Maybe get a job of some sort? He couldn't go back to school looking like this. Thinking about that was a headache in itself so he put the bag under his clothes and tried to think of something else. He tried thinking of something good, something positive. He tried to remember a happy memory from the past. He recalled one of the only times he and his dad, his real dad were happy together. His dad had taken him to the park to eat a ice-cream cone. Not to the docks where he would have his 'business meetings', not down in a drug house where he would have to wait on the porch steps till his dad was done shooting up, but the actual park. In the middle of the day. They had a good time just hanging out and talking about the Gotham Knights game. He remembered that they laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed...no wait, that's not how it went. He opened his eyes and looked around, everybody was pointing and laughing at him.

Everybody in the park was pointing down at him and were laughing, he turned to his dad and he was laughing too. Their faces were twisted in horrible humor, looking down at him with contempt and they just kept laughing. He tried running away, but the laughter followed him where ever he went. People in the streets pointed and laughed as he ran by. He ran so fast that he tripped on something, and it made them wail all the louder. He got back up and kept running, covering his ears and closing his eyes, trying to block it out. He ran into something and fell down. He looked up and there they were; Nightwing, Batgirl and Batman all standing around him and laughing.

"Stop it!" he yelled out at them. Nightwing only folded his arms and laughed harder, Batgirl pointed and laughed too. Batman, he leaned in closer and said:

"It's funny because you're a joke."

"I'm not a joke," he cried out, "I tired my best Bruce, I really did." Batman laughed loud and hard.

"Stop!" he said grabbing his head in agony, "stop it, please! I did my best! I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!" They just kept laughing and laughing. Soon he was laughing too, he laughed and laughed along with them, he looked up at them, seeing them Jokerfied as well and he laughed at that. He turned and ran away, laughing all the while. He ran blindly in the dark, stumbling over invisible objects. All he could see was people laughing at him and all he could hear was that laughter, until he heard the horn. He turned and saw two bright lights coming toward him. Instinct kicked in and he tried to dodge the lights, but he felt himself get clipped by something big and metal. He rolled for a moment and he was suddenly back into reality. He wasn't in the room anymore, he didn't even know where he was. All he knew was that he was in the middle of the road somewhere and that apparently he just got clipped by a car. He ran to the nearest alley way he could see and ducked into a wooden crate, hoping that whoever was in the car didn't see him. He heard the driver open the door. Damn it...damn, damn, damn! He tried to not move or breath. He saw a flashlight beam. Oh damn, damn, damn! Then he herd it, the one voice he really didn't want to hear at all.

"Good lord," said Alfred in a panic, "are you all right? I didn't see you, you just darted into the road and..."

The beam of light blinded him. There was no hiding from it. No more hiding from everyone. He lowered his hands to look at a very shocked butler.

* * *

**Thanks again for taking a look! I would really appreciate any reviews! Until next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

Alfred Pennyworth had seen a lot in his life. Working with Batman had it's advantages and disadvantages, and seeing all the horrible outcomes were certainly in the latter category. He thought he had seen it all: murder victims killed in common ways or otherwise, strange motivations of crimes. He'd even saw some of the most bizarre and truly insane crimes, from mutant plant men to those ghastly fish. True he had his own adventures to tell, from the time when those comedians were brainwashed, to when he was kidnapped by Red Claw and his worse experience was with Poison Ivy but he had never expected to come across anything like this.

He looked at what was inside the crate and yet he could hardly believe it. Inside was the Joker. Well not really; he knew better than that, but the resemblance was uncanny. The child lowered his arms and looked back at him. The child's eyes were wide, but he couldn't read any expression in them. They were glazed over, as if he was looking at something beyond himself, that only he could see. His face...it was painful to look at it. Alfred had seen so many twisted faces from the Joker's murdered victims. The ones that were lucky enough to survive those attacks had permanent facial nerve damage. The child's face was twisted and distorted in such a painful expression of 'joy'. The skin was just as white, the hair just as dark emerald green with red ruby lips...but that laugh. That laugh was more...sick. There wasn't any other way of describing it. The child finally focused on him, and tried to huddle further within the box. Alfred lowered the flashlight beam and said:

"Here now my lad," he said gently, as if he was coaxing a injured animal, "don't be alarmed." The child only breathed harder.

"I'm terribly sorry that I hit you," he said, "and I need to make sure that you are unharmed. Won't you come out so I can see if you are alright?" The child didn't move. He wasn't going to give up though, there was not a chance in all the world that he would leave this child alone.

"Come now," he said backing away, "I mean you no harm. I'll give you plenty of room to come out." He stood patiently still, waiting for the child to make the next move.

J.J. didn't know what to do. He sat there looking at Alfred. This was bad. This was really bad. This was the next worse case scenario that could have happened. Alfred would want to take him to either the hospital or to the police, he wasn't stupid. However, Alfred would stand there all night if he had to. What choices did he have? Perhaps, when they got in the car, and they drove a little ways away he'd jump out. He could also get out of the crate and try to make his escape. There wasn't much choice. He slowly got out of the crate and looked up at Alfred. He expected to see disgust or pity on Alfred's face, but he looked just as stern and proper as usual.

"There's a good lad." said Alfred and walked closer and...blocked his escape out of the alley. Great, just great. Alfred gently placed his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked him over. He didn't seemed hurt from the accident, but feeling his shoulders he could tell that he was terribly thin. He took a closer look at the boy's face and neck. It was hard to tell with that large grin and the black circles around his eyes to see if he was thin, but his neck was so thin that he could see the small muscles underneath the white skin.

"There now," he said taking his hands off the boy, he didn't want to frighten him away, "you seem to be well in order. You look like you could stand a decent meal however, I'd like to take you someplace safe and we can see if we can get you something to eat."

'Stranger danger,' popped inside his head, and he could feel another laugh building up. He fought it though, it was bad enough that Alfred was looking at him as he was. He chocked it back down and took a step back.

"It will be alright," Alfred said to him, placing a gentle hand behind him and slowly pushed him toward the street, "I promise you that." J.J. looked up at him. He could push Alfred away and make a break for it...but that would just make Alfred tell Batman all the quicker. He didn't want to hurt Alfred either. Alfred was the closest thing to a grandpa he ever had, and there was no way he could hurt Alfred. That's why he couldn't tell him who he was...or rather, who he had been. He felt himself start to walk. He looked down and indeed he was walking. It was still strange, not being fully in control anymore. He looked around the street to see where he was, now that he wasn't in a panic. He didn't recognize the street and he hadn't been hear earlier. At least his belongings were safe for the moment. Alfred opened the car and stood there waiting for him to crawl inside. He looked up at Alfred again, mulling the idea of running away again but Alfred looked down at him with a reassuring smile. He sighed and slowly got inside the car.

The door closed behind him and he looked around inside. He hadn't been in this particular car before. This was an older car, much older. He expected the seats to be upholstered with leather, but instead were linen. The pattern on them reminded him of an old lady's curtains, or wallpaper. Alfred had climbed inside the drivers side of the car. He recalled what the car looked like...a Rolls Royce? Maybe it was one of the old Rolls Royce that was in Bruce's collection. What was it called again, the Phantom or something like that? The car muttered back to life and he could feel that they were in motion. He looked into the drivers compartment and saw that Alfred wasn't looking at him. He reached for the door handle and pulled on it. Locked. He tried the other door, and again locked. How was that possible in this car? He didn't think that older cars had locks on them. He sunk into the seat, hugging himself again. He was trapped now, Alfred was taking him either to the hospital or to the police station and there wasn't anything he could do to prevent it.

Alfred looked into the rear view mirror and saw the boy curled up in the seat and rocking slightly back and forth. He was obviously scared. Alfred put his eyes back onto the road. What to do with the boy? He could take him to the police, but he felt that would only make things worse at the moment. There would be plenty of time for the police. Perhaps the hospital, the boy was thin, and who knew what was still racing in his system. That could cause a rise out of the boy though, he was nervous enough with him as it was. Alfred thought long and hard, and decided where the best place to take the boy to was.

* * *

Montoya looked up at the old asylum, left to rot when the city built the new high-security complex. It had seemed to be a better building. It had less escapes than the old Arkham did, much less. The building had been put on a man-made island in the middle of a lake deep within the mountains. Out of sight and out of mind. This one had been a revolving door. As soon as one super criminal was put it, was just as soon as they escaped. She felt so uneased, looking up at it, as if it still had lunatics inside...perhaps it did. Her thoughts were sidetracked when she heard Bullock loudly eating his sandwich. She looked over at him with slight disgust, after all these years working with him she was still not use to his eating habits.

"When's backup arriving?" he asked with food still in his mouth.

"Gordon said that he would get it to us as fast as he could," she said.

"This is nuts," he said wiping his greased covered hands onto his coat, "why would the Joker pick this of all places as a hideout?"

"That's probably it right there," she said looking back up at the ruined place, "who would want to come back here?" Bullock was about to say something when he saw a light out of the corner of his eye. The familiar red and blue flashing was coming down the road.

"Finally," he said getting out of the car, "took those knuckleheads long enough." Montoya got out of the car as well, but was surprised to see only one police car approaching. The car stopped right next to theirs, the driver stepping out.

"Commissioner," asked Bullock shocked, "what are you doing here? I thought you were sendin' us backup."

"I have," he said walking up to them with his hands in his pockets, "I've called in..."

"Don't tell me,' Bullock said already annoyed, "you called your pet freak?"

"Batman has had more experience with the Joker in the field that any of us combined," Gordon said looking hard at him, "and is still alive to say so." Bullock folded his arms in protest.

"Are you sure that this is the smartest thing to do right now Jim," he said looking hard at him, "with Robin missin' and all? What if the freak goes to far, crosses the line? He's always been a few bats short of a belfry if you ask me." Gordon looked at him.

"I really don't know. We'll worry about that if and when, but right now," he said looking hard at his two detectives, "I need you two focused. If the Joker and Harley Quinn are in there, who knows what they've set up in there."

"Yes sir but," Montoya said cautiously, "why are you here, sir?" Gordon looked at her.

"I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly." he said and turned away. 'He's worried about Batman going to far,' she realized, 'it's not just Bullock.' She looked down the road and could hear more vehicles approaching. The Batmobile in all of it's glory zoomed toward them, followed by two motorcycles. It had been a long time since she had seen Nightwing, but she was glad to see him. Batgirl was the second motorcyclist. She removed her helmet and looked at the police officers. She looked tired, she and Nightwing. It wasn't their faces that gave it away, but their body language. Their movements were slow and sluggish for them. The didn't hop immediately off their bikes and run toward them like usual, but they got off them like normal people and walked up to them. It was strange. Batman didn't jump out of the car, it seemed that he was doing something inside. Soon though, the car's hood slid back and reviled the Dark Knight. He jumped out and marched over to them.

"As you know," Gordon said to the three costumed crime fighters, "we have reason to believe that the Joker and Harley Quinn are hiding out inside the old Arkham building." Batgirl looked toward the building on the hill.

"Seems appropriate somehow." she said. Batman looked at the building as well. He was killing two birds with one stone. He hadn't even considered looking for Robin in this forgotten place. He was kicking himself for doing so. It was probably the first place he should have looked. If they found Robin here, that would be victory enough. If all they found was the Joker and Quinn, it would only give him something to take his frustration out on.

"We'll go in the front," Batman said looking at Jim, "you three wait here until we drag those maniacs out."

"Not this time," Gordon said flatly, "this time we all go in together."

"I know what we're up against," Batman said coldly, "you'll just get in our way."

"I insist we go in together." Jim said just as cold looking hard at Batman. The four were dumbfound, they had never seen this before. Gordon had always trusted Batman and Batman always treated Jim with respect. The two leaned in closer to each other.

"Let me handle this." Batman whispered threateningly.

"I will, but not alone," Jim whispered back, "I don't want you out of my site. You're on edge, and I don't want to have to arrest you if you do anything more illegal than usual. Let me help." Nightwing was the only one at the right angle to read their lips. 'Jim's worried,' he thought, 'probably a good thing he's here.' Batman continued to glare down at Gordon, but then backed away.

"Fine. We'll all go in, but you three stay in the back while we'll go in front." He walked past them and headed up the road toward Arkham. The five others followed quietly behind for a bit, when Bullock looked over at Nightwing.

"Any luck finding the kid?"

"Not yet." Nightwing said quietly.

"We've searched everywhere in Gotham," Batgirl said, "this is the last place we haven't checked. Batman's...upset with himself for not thinking about it sooner."

"That's why we're here," Gordon said, "I could tell he was upset when I told him. I knew he may try something, especially if we find Robin here." Nightwing and Batgirl looked down, but Bullock said to him,

"Don't worry Commish," he said pulling out his gun, "I'll keep a close eye on him." Gordon slowly nodded. He never thought that he would have to keep a eye on his old friend. He had bent the rules for him. Looked away from other laws to allow him to continue to operate in Gotham, but if Batman crossed the line...he'd have no choice but to arrest him. If something did happen tonight to have that happen, it would be his last thing he would do as Commissioner and he would retire in shame. They approached the old large doors to Arkham, surprisingly they were in great condition. Batman didn't miss a beat and kicked the doors open and they all continued inside.

* * *

What to do, what to do? He didn't know how to get out of this. He looked up and saw that Alfred was talking on a cell phone. He tried to listen to the conversation, but it was muffled.

'He must be talking to Gordon, or the staff at the hospital.' he thought. Panic started to settle in, he didn't want all those doctors or police looking at him and laughing at him. Without thinking he tried to desperately open the door. When it wouldn't he started to slam the door with his body. Alfred took notice of this and switched on the two-way speaker.

"I know it's been a long drive," he said calmly "but we're nearly there, and please do stop tearing at the side paneling of the door," he said as he watched the child rip desperately at the linen interior, "it is the original interior, after all." J.J. stopped tearing at the door and sunk down onto the car's floor and held the sides of his head in desperation.

'I should have run,' he thought, 'I should have run. Why didn't I run? This is so stupid. Why did I get into the car? Why was I running in the first place, why can't I control myself anymore? Why, why, why...' he stopped thinking when he felt his head slam into the door of the car. He pulled back and looked around and felt his head.

'That poor boy.' thought Alfred. He had watched that wretched child rock back and forth on floor of the car while slamming his head into the side of the door, laughing all the while. The child appeared to realize what he had been doing and stopped. He was glad he made that phone call in advance. He looked ahead and pressed a button on the console of the car. It suddenly got darker inside the car. J.J. stood back up and looked out the windows. It looked like they had pulled into a cave, then he felt the familiar dips and turns. It couldn't be. There was now way that he would bring him here. Then the light came back and he looked out the window on the other side of the car. It was true: Alfred had brought him to the cave. He couldn't believe it. He was feeling a weird mix of pure joy and absolute terror. He so wished that he could see the cave one last time...he had a fleeting feeling that he had wished that several times while with the Joker. He felt the car come to a stop, and could see that Alfred was getting out of the car. Alfred came around to the door that J.J. had destroyed and opened it up, looking at the damages. He didn't say anything about it though, he was convinced it was an accident. The boy had stayed where he sat, looking at him.

"Come on out young man," he said calmly but full of command, "I promise that nothing will happen here." Of course he knew that, but he didn't want to face Bruce and the others. He listened, he didn't hear anything. Sure he could hear the water and the bats and the dripping stalactites, but no sounds of keyboard clicking or the gymnastic equipment in use or even the training course. He slowly came out of the car and looked around. There was nobody around. They were out. He sighed in relief. He felt Alfred grab his hand and started to lead him toward the medical bay of the cave. He'd been here a couple of times before, Alfred was the one who usually patched everybody up, unless it was more serious than that. He looked at the medical equipment. It was clean and in order. It felt weird to see it clean. Flashes of dirty scalpels and needles flashed in his mind, along with other memories. He tired to look at something else, but that just seemed to trigger another memory that danced horribly in his eyes. He held onto Alfred's hand with both of his, his only anchor in reality and he wasn't about to let it go. He felt the grip tighten on his own hand and he looked up, only to see the Joker looking down at him with a wicked grin.

"Ready to play 'Operation' again son, you know it's my favorite game." he said cruelly. It wasn't real, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't real and he buried his face into what he assumed was the Alfred's side. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the laughter. It echoed horribly inside the cave and in his head. He felt himself being shook by the shoulders and he opened his eyes. Alfred had dropped down on one knee and had been shaking him to get his attention. J.J didn't look at him, he was too busy looking for the Joker, perhaps he had imagined shooting him after all and had come for his revenge. The laughter was still echoing inside the cave, causing the bats to fly around.

"You need to stop this at once," Alfred was saying to him very sternly, "you need to get yourself under control." He looked at Alfred and realized that it wasn't the Joker laughing, but himself. He tried to slow himself, it was fairly easy this time because he was short of breath. He didn't stop entirely, just to the point it was soft chuckling. He looked down, absolutely humiliated. It really was the worst thing. He had no control over it. He couldn't even look Alfred in the face after that. He felt himself being lifted up and placed onto something. He looked down and saw that Alfred had brought the stretcher to him and was wheeling him toward the medical bay.

"There we are now," he said still as prim and proper, as if nothing had happened, "now you just rest here for now. I've something to attend to for the moment, but I'll still be here and will be back to check on you." he walked over to the curtain and pulled it closed, concealing him behind it. He felt better now that he was hidden.

'That was so embarrassing,' he thought to himself, 'he must think I'm a freak...even though I am one.' He listened and could hear Alfred typing on a keyboard. There was no way sneaking around him right now. He laid down on the stretcher. It was better to wait. Who knew when Batman would be back. Sometimes he would be gone for days on end. When Alfred left him alone, he would sneak out. He sat there in the darkness; for the first time in a long time he started to feel safe. He did know nothing bad would happen here, nothing ever had. He wasn't even laughing anymore. He had to work on that, he couldn't go around forever laughing like that. He heard something. It sounded like someone was entering the cave. He sat up and heard Alfred get up to greet whoever it was.

"It's so good of you to come on such short notice Doctor." Alfred said.

'Doctor?' he thought. His question was quickly answered.

"I know it's bad when you call me personally Alfred," Dr. Leslie Thompkins said in her usual business-like manner, "but you could have told me what it was. Honestly Alfred, you're becoming more and more like him. Always rushing and never getting into the facts."

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, "but this I felt was a very delicate situation. I didn't want to upset the boy."

"Boy, what boy," she asked, "it's not one of the others? Is it Robin," she asked eagerly, "did you finally found him?" Alfred sighed.

"Unfortunately that search goes on," he said; J.J. saw his hand grab the curtain, "however, I did bump into this lad instead." Alfred opened the curtain. J.J. looked at Dr. Thompkins. He saw her expression change from calm curiosity to masked shock. He could even hear her gasp. He looked away. Was it really that bad? He wanted to sink into the earth. He felt like a sideshow freak. He remembered when he had to get stitches on his leg and she had patched him up in this very spot. She kept a calm, firm voice. It wasn't too warm of a voice, but he still could feel that she had been worried. She walked up to him and held his chin in her hand and made him look up at her.

"Where did you find him?" she asked Alfred, her voice in that familiar calm tone.

"Near Seventh Street," Alfred said, "about five blocks away from Park Row. I was on my way back home from grocery shopping"

'Really, that far?' he thought to himself. At least he knew where to go now.

"How did you find him," she asked turning toward Alfred.

"It's as I told you," he said sadly, "I literally bumped into him with the Phantom. I was worried that I had hit a dog at first, but then I saw him. I wasn't going very fast and he seems to not be in any pain." She turned and looked at him.

"Are you in any pain," she asked him, "if you are can you show me where?" He looked at her and shook his head.

"I'm afraid that the lad does not speak." Alfred said to her. She nodded to him and turned on the lights in the bay. The lights were bright and illuminated everything. She turned back to him and said:

"I'm going to have to make sure that you're not hurt inside. I need you to take off your shirt and vest. Is that Ok?" He looked at her, but didn't make a move to take them off.

"It's easier for me to look and feel without your shirt on," she said gently, "I need them off. Don't worry, we'll give them back." It was strange, she was talking more and more gently with him. As if she was talking to a very small child. It annoyed him. He looked down and started to unbutton his vest. When he got it done, he felt his coat being taken off of him. He looked up and saw that Alfred had taken it. He then felt Lesley take his vest off and undo his bow tie. Now he was getting mad, he could do this himself. He didn't need their help. He went to push her away when he felt Alfred try to lift his shirt over his head. He raised his arms so that it would just be done and over with. The two adults looked down at the boy's scarred body. It truly was a sad sight to see. The boy's ribs were visible, and his shoulder blades stuck out so badly; so many scars.

"Alright," Lesley said, "I need you to lie down so I can feel your insides." He looked at her, and did as he was told, but he still felt uneasy. He didn't feel good there and he didn't want her hurting him. She put latex free gloves on and started to feel around his ribs, gently pushing on them.

"His ribs seem to be fine," she said to him, "I don't feel any broken ones." She started to move down and she pressed firmly down, feeling all around. He tried not to laugh, he didn't want to do it now but every time she pressed down it felt like it would just burst out. It just tickled so badly that it sort of hurt and it hurt so badly that it tickled. That was funny.

"I don't feel any pockets of fluid," she said, "I don't feel much of anything. I don't think he's had much to eat lately. It's obvious that he's malnourished," she felt lower down and pressed firmly again, "I think he's at the beginning stages of Kwashiokor. A blood test will tell us that." she gave one last push down and he couldn't stop it, it just popped out. The laugh came out like a bark, causing her to jump and take a step back. He sat up and covered his mouth. This time it wasn't his fault, she'd pushed it out. She composed herself quickly and looked at Alfred.

"I'd like to run some blood tests. I want to find out what's going on inside, this maybe just a new strain of Joker Venom we have on our hands."

"Very good, doctor." Alfred said and turned to prepare the necessary equipment. Leslie turned back to J.J. and looked at him. She had seen more than one case of child neglect, some of them weren't intentional but most of them where not. They were always hard to work on. She looked at him, he was awfully thin.

"Alright now," she said to him, "jump down and we'll see how much you weigh." He adjusted his suspenders and did as he was told. He remembered when Barbra thought she had gained weight and would constantly check it almost every day. He changed the scale so it read ten pounds too much...she nearly killed him when she found out. He stepped on the scale and watched Lesley move the weights around. She didn't say anything, but wrote down the weight in her clipboard, along with other notes.

"Alright, you can put back on your shirt if you want to," she said to him, "but leave the coat off for a moment. When you're done jump back up onto the stretcher and we'll get some samples from you." He nodded to show he understood her. She walked away to join up with Alfred.

"I have a feeling he may fight us on this," she said to him, "so I'm going to need you to hold him, if you have to." Alfred nodded in agreement.

"I have the same feeling," he said to her, "from what I've seen, he's not in complete control of himself."

J.J. watched them whisper to each other. Of course he knew what a blood test was and what was needed...he had them before in the past but for whatever reason, he was very nervous about it. They approached him, and he saw what was in Leslie hands was the needle for the test. Looking at it just made him feel so sick. He didn't want the test done anymore. He felt Alfred put his hands on his shoulders while Lesley put the latex strip around his arm. He started to hyperventilate, wanted to squirm away. He watched as Leslie washed his arm with alcohol. He tried to slip away, but Alfred took a firm grip around his waist. Alfred steadied his prepared arm, so he wouldn't jerk it away when she was ready.

"I need you to be brave now," she said looking at him, "just hold still and it will be over soon." It was pointless saying anything to him she saw. His eyes were looking a million miles away at nothing. She quickly inserted the needle and started filling the vials with blood. Even his blood looked wrong...it was dark and thick. She finished and removed the needle, trying to block out that horrible laughter. She had treated Joker Venom victims in the past and it was always hard to block out the laughter. She labeled the vials and put them down. She looked back and saw that Alfred was trying to talk him back to reality. His laughter soon quieted down and it seemed that he had 'come back' as it were.

"There now," she said to him, "was that so bad? Just a simple little blood withdraw." She put the vials into a centrifuge and turned it on. She was writing down more notes on her clipboard. J.J. was getting more nervous. She was going to take him to the hospital...he just knew it. Soon the centrifuge stopped spinning and she removed one of the vials. She walked over to a machine and inserted it into it. The machine started to feed information to the batcomputer. She typed in some commands and the computer started to analyze the blood.

"I'm processing the blood to find out what's in his system right now," she said turning back to Alfred, "I'd trust this computer to work faster than my own equipment. After we find out the new strain of Joker Venom is in him, we can administer an antidote. Then after he, uh, clears up I'll check him into the hospital." Alfred nodded.

"I also have the computer checking his DNA profile. If his blood is in any system, we'll know who he is."

'Uh-oh. That's not good.' He looked at the computer and sighed, there was nothing he could do about it now but just to wait and take the consequences. As they waited, she continued her examination; writing down his blood pressure, listening to his lungs. She took detailed notes, writing down everything that would be useful future references. The computer was whirling with the information it was getting and soon started beeping that it had finished processing the blood. It printed out the results. Leslie ripped off the page and looked at it, then looked at it harder.

"This can't be right." she said to herself. She took another vile and ran it through the machine again.

"What's wrong, doctor?" asked Alfred.

"I'm hoping it's a computer glitch," she said to Alfred, "but one thing is for sure, his DNA is too damaged right now to give a positive ID, or perhaps he's not in any computer system." J.J. sighed, his luck started to return to him. His blood must be too damaged right now...his DNA profile was definitely in the batcomputer's files. The computer finished again and reprinted the results. She looked at them again, and sighed. She walked over to them and said:

"I'm sorry, but there is no trace of any Joker Venom within him. There are traces of other chemicals, anesthetics, and even the Scarecrow's fear toxin...but no Joker Venom."

"Which means?" asked Alfred.

"I'm afraid," she said looking down at the boy and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, "that your condition might be permanent. I think the Joker must have used the same chemicals that turned him on this boy."

"My word." gasped out Alfred. J.J. looked down...so, it couldn't be fixed. He would just have to dye his hair and ware makeup everyday...that's all. He had already accepted it awhile ago, so it wasn't such a blow, but still. To be told by a doctor was still harsh. Then again, she did say 'might be', so there was a slight chance that it could still be fixed. He looked back up at Leslie and she smiled back at him, putting on a brave face.

"He seems to be stable for now," she said reading the notes, "and I would like to take him and check him into the hospital, but I think he's had enough excitement for tonight. I'm sure Batman wouldn't mind a guest for awhile. If anyone can figure out anything about his condition, it's Batman." she said with a smile on her face.

"You're letting the boy stay here?" asked Alfred raising an eyebrow. This was most peculiar for her.

"I think he's more comfortable here for now, and this system is more high-tech than what the hospital has," she pointed to the paper, "He's extremely weak right now; after he calms down and recuperates here for a day or so then I'll feel more confident in moving him to the hospital. I'm honestly worried about him fighting about going to the hospital and then going into shock if I took him there now."

"Do you have any orders for me, doctor?" asked Alfred.

"Make sure that he eats something," she said to him, "but make sure it's mild and that he drinks plenty of fluids, and make sure he gets a good nights sleep. Tomorrow make sure he stays in bed and doesn't overdo things. If his condition changes at all, call me and I'll come. I'll return the day after tomorrow to pick him up and take him to the hospital, and I want to make sure that I check him it. I'd like to personally take care of this."

"Very well," Alfred said, "I'll do all as you've said. Thank you again for coming." Leslie gathered her belongings and then turned back to Alfred.

"Let me know when you find Robin," she said, "and I hope it won't be for a medical emergency."

"We will," Alfred said, "shall I see you to the door, Doctor?"

"It's alright Alfred," she said with a smile, "I know my way out. Good night to you both." J.J. quietly watched Leslie ascend the stairs. Something told him that he should just let them know; to stop them from worrying.

'No,' he thought slowly shaking his head 'it's better this way. They'll give up soon enough and they'll move on.' He watched her disappear, swinging his legs lazily as he did. As soon as she left, Alfred walked over to the batcomputer and started to type something, he couldn't tell what it was from his angle. Soon however, his curiosity was answered quickly.

"Oh dear," Alfred said reading the message, "It seems that Batman and the others won't be returning for quite some time. Apparently they're investigating a...uh, disturbance of some sort and shall be out of contact for some time." It clearly said in the message that they were looking for the Joker, but he did not want to sent the boy into a catatonic state.

'This is to perfect,' he thought, 'with Batman and Batgirl gone, I can sneak out of the cave when Alfred is asleep.' He chuckled at the thought, wanting to get back to his stuff at the old building and get out of town. It was going to be harder now that Batman would know about him...he was hoping to have at least a month ahead of him, but it was doable.

"Come along young man," Alfred said to him, "and we'll see to it that you have a proper meal." He didn't hesitate on that, that sounded too good right now. He followed Alfred closely, trying not to look like he knew where he was going. As soon as the exited the caves' hidden entrance behind the clock, he felt a lump form in his throat. He was home. He thought he'd never see it again, and yet here he was getting one last look at the place. He looked around, trying to burn the memory in. The study was always kept so clean. It always reminded him of a library. They walked down the hallway toward the kitchen and dinning hall, and he could already smell food cooking. Alfred had always made sure that there would be a warm meal waiting for them every night after fighting crime. They entered the dinning hall and he saw that the table was already set.

"I was hoping that they would be arriving shortly," Alfred said to him, "but as usual they'll have to settle for leftovers. I'm sure that this isn't too exotic for you I hope. Sit down and I'll fetch you a plate." Alfred disappeared inside the kitchen, leaving him alone. He went to sit down when he noticed that there were four plates set. Four, why four? There was Bruce, Barbra, Alfred...of course Dick. Dick must be in town as well. He looked at the extra spot.

'Alfred usually doesn't eat with us,' he thought, 'maybe he's set the extra one just in case they find Tim...or rather me.' He sat in his usual spot on the table and waited as patiently as he could. Soon Alfred came out with the plate and set it in front of him. It was a roast chicken dinner with real mashed potatoes with whole corn on the cob and green beans. He hated green beans but they looked great tonight.

"Remember what Dr. Thompkins said," Alfred said to him, "eat slowly. I'm hoping that this isn't too rich for you." He nodded and took off his gloves and coat, he didn't want to get them dirty. He picked up his fork and as slowly as he could manage he started to eat. It was hard to go slow, he just wanted to forgo the fork and just use his hands. However with Alfred watching him, he tried his best to keep his manners. It was hard with shaking hands though. Soon, the food was gone even the green beans that he hated so badly.

"Alright now," Alfred said to him, "I'll wash this up later, but let's get you clean and put to bed." He didn't want to get clean and go to bed yet, he was still hungry. He knew he ate a large plate of food, but it just didn't feel like it was enough. He sighed and followed Alfred. He lead him to the guest's quarters. He wasn't really allowed inside this room, it was only for important guests so Alfred always made sure that nobody would come in and mess it up. Alfred went inside the bathroom and started to draw up a bath for him.

"I trust that you know how to bathe yourself, sir?" He angrily nodded and folded his arms. Of course he knew how to, how old did Alfred think he was?

"Very good," he said "I'll see if I can find you proper pajamas while you bathe. I'll check on you now and then to make sure that you are doing alright." and with that Alfred left the room and closed the door. He heard a locking sound. He couldn't believe it, he walked over to the door and tried to open it...locked. Alfred locked him inside. It made him feel nervous, he didn't know why but it did. He sighed and decided that he might as well get it over with. He undressed himself and as he did, he carefully and neatly folded his clothes. He felt like if he just left them in a pile something bad would happen. Probably the same thing that kept him wearing them. He entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He went up to the bathtub and felt the water. It was a little on the warm side, but it was good enough for now. He climbed in and sat in it for a moment. He took a washcloth and foamed it up and started to wash himself. He had forgotten how nice a warm bath felt. He washed as much of himself as he could, wishing that the white would wash away but it stayed right were it was. It was going to take a long time for him to get use to it...if he ever did. He was in the middle of washing his hair when he heard a knock on his door.

"I've left your clothes on the bed for you. I trust that you're washing everything now, I hope?" He sighed, wishing he could say 'go away'.

Soon he was done washing, he even washed his face and behind his ears. He got out and drained the tub. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself. It was very stiff and scratchy, obviously not used much. He exited the bathroom and saw his pajamas. No really, they were his. An older pair, ones that he had outgrown. He picked them up and looked at them. It seemed like they would fit him again now though. He finished drying off and put the pajamas on. His arms and legs were a little too long for them, but they still looked baggy on him. He didn't realize that he had lost so much weight. He looked around and noticed that his suit was gone. He started to panic, he had just left them here. He looked inside the drawers, hoping that Alfred had put them away. Nothing in the draws. He looked around, hoping to find them. He couldn't find them and if he lost them then he was going to die. He just knew it. He was in such a rush looking for them that he didn't even see Alfred standing there; he ran into him and looked up at him. He grabbed Alfred's own clothes and started to point at them, then to himself.

"If you're worried about your clothes, don't worry," he said to him calmly, "I've taken the liberty in washing them. However I suggest that you get some sleep." Alfred had calmly watch the boy go into a fit when he couldn't find the suit. It was a sad sight, he felt so badly for this child. His recovery was gong to be a long battle indeed. J.J. pointed at the bed with a questioning look.

'What, sleep here?'

"Yes, hop into bed and I'll turn out the lights for you." He sighed and did just that. He felt incredibly small in this bed. He didn't like the feel of the mattress, it was way too stiff for his liking. The light went out and Alfred closed the door and once again locked it. That put a major dent in his grand plan. First he couldn't leave without his clothes, and now he was locked inside the room. He was hoping to be inside the cave, and could escape when Alfred left him alone down there for the night. It was never easy. He laid down and looked up at the ceiling, trying to think and plan on what to do next, but soon his thoughts dulled into nothing as he fell asleep.

* * *

**Thanks for sticking around for more! Reviews are always appreciated and welcomed!**


	6. Chapter 6

It was eerie...even though she had been in here many times before it felt completely alien to her. She looked around the decaying walls; seeing that some plant life was starting to take over the old building. Barbra did know why they hadn't completely torn down the old Arkham building, it had something to do with 'historical significance' and was currently in the center of a lawsuit. Some rich decedent of Jeremiah Arkham wanted the old building restored, so he could turn around and charge admission for tours. It was stupid. Only a few people knew about the lawsuit, and her father was one of them. Of course, Bruce Wayne was a backer of tearing down the damned place; he even funded the new Arkham. She stumbled on some bits of debris, trying her best to keep quiet. It was really eerie. It did feel like something was watching them. She looked around and saw the others obviously felt the same way. Her father, Bullock and Montoya had their guns out and ready to shoot if necessary. Nightwing was quietly scanning all around him, watching the corners and shadowed areas. Batman though, he just marched ahead; not really looking around him. He seemed like he was just walking strait ahead, not caring what came of it. Her dad was right to come along, Bruce was dangerously on edge and if they did find the Joker or Harley here...well, she wasn't sure what would happen. She was almost hoping that they wouldn't find anything.

Everybody looked around the hallways. They checked doors and around corners, ready for anything but the longer that nothing happened the more on edge everyone became. It was odd, usually the Joker would have...presented himself by now. If there was one thing that the Joker was known for, was putting on a show and he loved to be in the center of attention. Knowing what to expect was more comforting, but this...quiet was more unsettling. As everyone checked down hallways and cells, Batman knelt down and looked at the dust on the ground. It had been moved. He couldn't tell when, but somebody had passed through here, he looked up and saw that it faintly lead strait ahead. He stood up and quietly gave out signs to Batgirl and Nightwing. They nodded and started to take higher positions. Jim saw this, and gave his own signals to Bullock and Montoya. They followed him closely, guns at the ready. Batman marched toward the end of the hall, the plaque at the end of the hall read: 'operation theater'. He didn't take any precautions like he normally would have, but just loudly opened the doors. He looked around, and saw the fake kitchen and large building blocks and a hanging playing card. They had been defiantly here. He walked inside and looked around. It was a typical Joker hideout, but it appeared to have been abandoned. He knew that wasn't the case. They were hiding somewhere around here. He'd tear the place apart and drag them out if he had to. He could see that Nightwind and Batgirl were stationed up where the seats of the theater were, ready for anything. Gordon and the others were quietly looking around. Finally, Jim put his gun back into its holster and said as loudly as he pleased:

"I don't think anybody's home. Could it be that they left and abandoned this place?"

"I doubt it," Batman said, "it's not like them to just leave like this."

"The freak has a point Commish," said Bullock, hating that he was agreeing with Batman, "why up and leave a hideout that even Batman wouldn't know about?"

"I don't like it," Batman said, "spread out and carefully look around. If you find anything, speak up." Everyone did, each picking their own corner to search. Bullock immediately went to the kitchen area and typical for him, looked inside the fridge. Montoya was more practical and looked around on one of the balconies that had been converted into a makeshift 'living room'. Batgirl and Nightwing both entered the projection booth. They looked around but there was nothing.

"Batgirl, come over and look at this." Nightwing said. She walked over to him and saw what he was referring to. It was a old projector, much like they use to have in movie theaters before they went to digital. However, this projector had been smashed apart.

"Why would someone smash this thing up," she asked him, "is there anything inside it?"

"No," he said lifting some parts of it off and looking at them, "and I didn't see any spare film reels lying around either. It looks like this was smashed out of anger...probably with a hammer."

"Or a mallet." Batgirl said, piecing together what may or may not have happened.

Gordon had walked over to a large blue curtain and slowly pulled it back. There had been something set up here, but now it was all smashed up. What had been remaining was a old stretcher and some broken bits of lab equipment. He looked around, trying to see of anything that could be of use. He looked down and saw some old surgical equipment and hidden under some broken glass was a bloodied scalpel. He picked up the scalpel with his handkerchief and wrapped it up and put it into his coat pocket. He got up and continued to look around, and spying some blood on the ground. He walked over to it and knelt down. Somebody had been hurt or killed, and he could see drag marks on the ground.

"Batman, you'd better come take a look at this." he called out, but he didn't get a response.

"Batman?" he called out again looking around. He wasn't in the room. Damn it, he had left them alone. He got and called out:

"You two better go find your boss; tell him I found something important." Nightwing and Batgirl jumped down gracefully from the projection booth and ran out, hoping that Batman hadn't found the Joker on his own. They soon could hear someone shifting papers around and looked inside a old office. Batman was inside and was noisily looking through paperwork; very unusual for the dark knight.

"Gordon's found something important," Nightwing said, "I don't think that the Joker is here anymore though."

"Clearly," Batman said very annoyed, "someone's been through here and has taken or destroyed evidence. Someone's covering something up."

"But why," Batgirl said, "why would the Joker and Harley cover up the fact that they've been here?"

"I intend to find out," Batman growled, "keep looking through here and try to find anything important that may tell us were they went. I'm going to see what Gordon wants." He left the office and entered back into the theater, seeing that Bullock and Montoya had huddled around Gordon. He walked over to them and saw what they were looking at. There was blood on the ground.

"What do you make of this," Gordon said pointing to it, "I've collected a sample of it and will have the lab boy's look at it, but I'd figured that you'd want a sample of it as well." As Gordon said all this, Batman had already gathered up some of the blood and stowed it away into his utility belt. Gordon looked hesitantly, not sure if he was willing to share information...then reached into his pocked and pulled out his handkerchief.

"I also found this," he said handing it over to Batman, "I don't know what to make of it, but I trust you'll let me know."

"What is it?" asked Bullock.

"A bloody scalpel," he said quietly, "I don't know what was going on over in that corner, but I'm hoping for the best."

"What," Bullock said, "you think it belongs to Robin or something? That little kid wasn't hurt ya' know." Gordon glared at him.

"We don't know that yet," Gordon said, "and I don't think it's the best time to jump to conclusions."

"Whatever Commissioner," Bullock said angrily, "you go ahead and protect your pet bat as long as you can but you know that he's stepped into it big time this time."

"Bullock," Gordon yelled out, "that's enough!"

"You know it, they know it," he said pointing to the returning Nightwing and Batgirl, "and he knows it! It doesn't take a genius to figure this one out!" Bullock boldly marched over toward Batman, not caring what was going to happen.

"If you'd ask me, he's always been just as nuts as the rest of them and now he's finally gone and got a kid killed for it!" Bullock didn't have time to finish what he was going to say afterward; the next thing he knew was that he was on his back and that the room was spinning. Montoya rushed over to Bullock after Batman sucker-punched him so hard that she saw his head bounce off of the ground once he fell down. She looked at him and was surprised to see him still awake.

"That's enough out of both of you!" Gordon said and much to the surprise of Barbra, pulled out his gun and pointed it at Batman. There was dead silence. Barbra couldn't believe what she was seeing. This was just like that horrible hallucination that she had suffered from the Scarecrow, only this time it was real. Gordon looked hard at Batman and Batman at him. They were at a silent stand off, both waiting to see what the other would do.

"Now," Jim finally said, "it's obvious that no one's here anymore; feelings are raw and on edge. I think it would be best to just walk away from here for now and look at what we have at hand." Bullock tried his best to sit back up with Montoya's help. He looked around and refocused on Batman and saw that the three costumed freaks were leaving.

"Go ahead and try to protect him for as long as you can Jim," he said slurred, "but you know just as well as I do. You know what's going to happen now Jim and you won't be able to protect him anymore." Gordon didn't turn around but said:

"You're right Bullock, for once you're right. If I think who's blood is on the floor there," he said turning back to his detectives, "I won't be able to do anything to prevent it."

The three vigilantes walked quickly back toward the exit. Nightwing was just as mad as Bullock, and he agreed with him. He also thought that the blood on the ground could possibly belong to Tim...if that was true...

"What now?" he asked, not even bothering to mask his anger.

"We go looking for the Joker," Batman said coldly, "I want to check out every known hiding place tonight. I don't want to loose him again, especially if he has Robin. We're going to go press on every mob boss, find every snitch and force any word about the Joker. We're going to make it so hot for him that he'll have no choice but to make his next move."

"And after that," asked Batgirl, "and what if we don't find anything about Robin or the Joker?"

"We rip this place apart until it falls to the ground."

"What about the blood?" asked Nightwing, "shouldn't we find out who it belo-"

"We do this my way," Batman said, "first we look, then we'll find out about the blood. End of discussion." Nightwing clenched his fists. If it really was Robin's blood on the ground...he was only willing to go with Bruce's plan on account that he would be able to bust some jaws to get his anger out. As they left the old Arkham ground he couldn't help but to wonder if they had missed anything important there. Bullock had ended the search really early and normally Batman would just brush off his words. 'It's not so easy to do so when it's the truth though.' he thought to himself. For the first time in his life, he agreed with Bullock. There would be no hiding from the law anymore if Batman had killed a kid...indirectly or not.

* * *

J.J. slowly woke up. He looked up at the high ceiling and looked as the world went from blurred shadows to clear vision. He slowly sat up, he was reluctant to get up but he knew that if he stayed any longer he risked having Batman come home and then everything would fall apart. He got out of bed and squinted around in the dark. He couldn't see much of anything so he reluctantly turned on the lamp on the night stand. The light was dim but gave out enough light for him to see clearly. True to his word, Alfred had washed and pressed his suit and the coat hung neatly on a hook on the wall; the rest of the suit was folded neatly on the dresser. He looked at the clean suit and felt better. There was one task completed for him right off the get go. Now all he had to worry about was to sneak out of the cave and find the train station. Easier said than done though, this was Wayne manner after all, home of the Batman. He walked into the bathroom and looked around. There were some cleaning and grooming supplies for guests already on the shelves. Luckily there was some hair gel among the supplies. It was a good thing too because looking in the mirror he could see that his hair was messed up, and it needed to be fixed. He dressed himself quickly, having to dress himself in the suit so many times be started to become use to the different steps. He put on everything except the coat and gloves and went inside the bathroom. He got a comb and turned on the sink, he corrected the parts of his hair that was sticking up with the wet comb and then reached for the hair gel. He could sort of remember how his hair had been, it was some sort of stylized ducktail. Soon he had the same hairstyle he had before, save the small curl. He quickly fixed that and look in the mirror. Yep, there he was. That stupid looking clown kid from before. He'd better get use to that kid, he was going to see him for a long time. He washed his hands and turned off the light of the bathroom and closed the door. Then he turned off the light on the night stand. As he was getting his coat off it's hook did he realize that Alfred had probably re-locked the door. Sure enough when he tried it, it was locked.

He sighed in frustration. Now what? He sat in one of the chairs and thought about it, slowly putting on his gloves as he thought about it. He couldn't kick the door down, Alfred would hear it. He swore that Alfred had just as good as hearing as Superman, if not better. He couldn't try to unlock it as he didn't have any tools for it. He looked out the window trying to think of something...the window! Duh, of course! He walked over to the window and opened it. The moon was still fairly high in the sky, probably making it to be about one or two o'clock in the morning. He looked around and there was a small ledge that he could shimmy across. It would have been out of the question if he had been any bigger though, and he wasn't sure if it was the smartest thing to do, but he climbed out of the window and carefully closed it behind him. He looked down, he had never been afraid of heights before, nor was he scared now. He was more nervous of falling down, now that he didn't have a grapnel to stop his fall. He slowly crept along the side of the mansion, trying to focus on the window ahead. He soon made it over to it and hoped it was open. He slowly opened the window and crept inside, again closing the window behind him. He tiptoed across the room, trying to be stealthy but if Alfred was still awake, then he would surely already know he was out of the room. Alfred always seemed to know whenever he tried to sneak around...it was really frustrating. He opened the door and peaked down the hallway. Everything was pitch black. He entered the hallway, carefully closing the door and trying his best not to make sounds. He soon however came up to his old room. He forced himself to pass it by though, he couldn't risk to stop and look around. He would just have to remember what was in it and leave it at that. He crept down the stairs and down the hallways, trying his best to keep his shoes from clicking on the clean marble floors. He soon came up to the clock entrance to the cave and moved the hands to 3:15, the time that Bruce's parents had died. The clock opened up, and he had never realized how loud it was as it move. He paused and looked around, hoping that Alfred wouldn't pop out from the shadows and scare the living crap out of him. Nothing came from it so he continued down the stairs.

The cave was quiet as well; Alfred wasn't down here or anyone else. 'He must be asleep.' He thought to himself. All the better. It would be awkward for him if they caught him here now. He thought about it, it was a stupid risky idea, but he couldn't resist it. He walked over to the trophy section of the cave and decided to have one last look around. He looked up at the robotic dinosaur, wishing that he had been apart of that case. It was a robotic Tyrannosaurus rex, who wouldn't want to be apart of it? He looked at all the zany and strange contraptions of all the villains had produced over the years. He even walked up to the trophy case that had a copy of Harley's costume. He put his hands on it and wondered if Batman would ever get a Joker suit now that he was gone. Perhaps now that he would know about him, maybe he would get a version of his suit to stand between the two costumes of the Joker's and Harley's?

Probably not.

He tried no to laugh at the thought though, he had to be extra quiet. He decided to take one last look at the costume cases and then leave. He walked over to them and looked at them with so much respect. Batman's costume was bigger than he had remembered it to be. It was bulky and armed to the teeth with armor and internal gadgets. Batgirl's costume favored flexibility over armor, but it was still strong enough to deflect a bullet if need be. Nightwing's costume was a marriage of the two, flexible and strong, but not quiet as the other costumes were. Then there was his. He looked at the bright red of the suit. It really did stand out from the other costumes, didn't it? Batman's was gray and black, Batgirl's was black with hints of yellow, Nightwing's only had a bit of blue on it and his...red all over with hints of yellow and black. He really was a target, wasn't he? He sighed and looked at it. Even though it was bright and colorful, he felt as if he failed what it had represented.

Robin was Batman's partner, not just that but the one who would always cheer him up; kept him from being too serious. That's what Alfred had told him and he believed every word of it...but now. He looked at it and wished he could take it with him. Put on the costume one last time and try to regain it's lost glory...but he couldn't...he probably didn't even fit in it anymore. He sighed and was about to turn away when he remembered that there were always spare utility belts underneath the costumes in a compartment. He opened up the Robin case and sure enough, there was one inside. He took it out and looked at it. He remembered that the Joker had taken his away the first moments he had him and had destroyed, took out something from the wreck of it and waved it in his face...something about how Batman couldn't track him now. He opened a compartment on the inside of the belt and sure enough...there was a tracer. He pulled it out and looked at it. It was true...Batman hadn't really trusted him. He had always been watching him all the time. He knew about them from earlier but Bruce said he had taken them all out. He clenched his fist with the tracer. He never trusted him...he had always been a hindrance to him, to all of them. He tried not to laugh at it, but as he opened up his hand and looked down at the tracer, he couldn't help but to laugh at it. It wasn't the normal one he had...it was a bitter one. He was so stupid in to think that he had been helping. It was truly better for him to leave now and never look back. He would only be a bigger burden on all of them. He put the tracer back into the case compartment and closed it up. He took one last look at it, silently apologizing to it.

There was one last thing to quickly do before he left. He walked over to the computer and accessed to the security cameras of the Manson and cave. He made sure that he put them on a loop that would last for about two hours and then took the past 24 hours of film and deleted them. He had to make sure that Alfred and Lesley would be the only ones who saw him. He didn't want the others to know. He turned back around and headed toward the elevator. He had decided earlier that he would take the Batboat out. It could take him closer to where he needed to go and would be less likely to be noticed that it was gone from the cave. Kind of fitting really, he first came into the cave via the boat and now he was leaving the cave via the boat. He reached the dock of the boat and stopped. He looked at the belt that he had taken. The tools inside would help him one last time and then he would bury it somewhere. He put it around his waist and clicked it closed. It didn't fit anymore. He had lost so much weight that it just fell to the ground when he let it go. He didn't even feel a laugh come on from it, it was so pathetic. He picked it up and opened it back up and closed it around his shoulders and made it into a chest belt. He climbed into the boat and punched in the codes to start it up. As it roared to life he took one last look at the cave. He had been a part of this. He may not have been one of the best, but he had been a part of it. He could at least have some pride in that. The boats lid closed and it started it's way toward the underwater exit.

* * *

Alfred woke up at dawn, just as he usually did. He slowly sat up in bed and stretched his still tired back. He had never felt his age until recently, he had always sprung out of bed like a schoolboy and was always on top of things. Now though he struggled to pull himself out of bed and to keep up with the small things, let alone the big ones. Some of his chores were becoming severely neglected. He soon stopped feeling sorry for himself and decided to focus on more important things, like the boy for example. He hoped that Bruce and the others had given that monster a good thrashing this time. He entered the kitchen and started to make a mild breakfast for the boy, thinking that perhaps what he had given him last night was probably too rich for him. As the food was cooking he decided to see if the others had returned home. He looked in Bruce's bed room and could see that it had not been slept in. He sighed and wished that they would hopefully have news today. He had heard Barbra quietly crying several times when she had stayed over and even though Dick thought other wise, Bruce was taking it the hardest of all. He felt lost. He didn't know what to do or say this time, he was worried that perhaps this would be the time he would finally fall into that pit and never come out again. He prepared the bedside trey with the porridge; juice and water for the boy and started up toward the guest room. He unlocked the door with one hand and opened the door.

There was a small lump under the sheets, the boy was still asleep. He set the tray down and opened the windows.

"Rise and shine now young man," he said approaching the bed and taking hold of the blanket, "it's a grand day and-" he flipped the blanket open to see pillows.

"Oh dear," he said out loud, "how did he escape?!" He thought about it. The window! He opened the window and looked down, hoping that he wouldn't see a body crumpled on the ground. Nothing, thank God! He closed the window and searched the room. Sure enough that gaudy suit was gone, and so was the boy. He sighed and rubbed his neck. This sort of stress he did not need. Now he had two small boys to worry about. He decided the best thing to do was to go down into the cave and tell the others about it. They would surely do something about it. He headed down to the cave when he heard the roars of the vehicles arriving back. Thank goodness, he could just tell them now and not have to worry about it. He walked over to them and was shocked. They were all cut and bruised.

"Good lord what happened," he asked them in shock, "was it the Joker that did this to you?"

"No Alfred, it wasn't," said Nightwing tiredly, "we never found him. This is from everyone else in Gotham."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Alfred said sadly.

"We're trying to find the Joker," Barbra said moving her shoulder, trying to make it hurt less, "we think that he was the one that kidnapped that girl from earlier. We went to every mob boss and every street gang...we even went to Penguins place and told them all that we want the Joker."

"About that you see," Alfred said, "last night I-"

"Alfred," Batman interrupted and handed him something from his belt, "I need you to run these blood samples for me. I need to see who it's from." Alfred looked at Bruce, his cowl was down and he could see the small hint of worry in his eyes. He said no more and took the plastic bag and started the process of analyzing the blood. As the computer did it's thing, he attended to the others, wrapping up cuts and making stitches if need be.

"I honestly can say for a fact that this has been your most reckless endeavor, Master Bruce," he said sternly, "I can't believe you all would go and fight all those people when you all are so exhausted. Most of these are beyond my abilities, I'll have to phone Leslie for them. " Nobody said anything. Alfred looked at them and shook his head and phoned her. The computer finished analyzing the blood and Alfred looked at the results. He turned to tell them and could see that they were all on the edge of their seats in anticipation.

"Who's blood is it, Alfred?" asked Dick. Alfred was surprised at them but calmly said,

"It is the Joker's blood in this sample." Bruce, Dick and Barbra looked at each other in shock and relief but then confusion. It was not what they were expecting. Alfred was more confused now than ever.

"Dare I ask what's going on?" he asked.

"We found that blood in the old Arkham building," Dick said, "the Joker had converted it into this weird 'happy home' thing."

"Yeah, it was really weird." Barbra said. Bruce pulled out the handkerchief that Gordon had given him.

"Gordon found this in some lab wreckage and it has blood on it as well," he said standing up and taking it toward the computer, "I have my suspicions about but I believe it's from another person. I'll run the test myself and see who's blood this is. I hope I'm wrong though." he said, the last bit quietly to himself. Alfred nodded, he already had their missing puzzle piece. The blood was probably the boys. He poured out water in some drinking glasses for them to drink out of.

"I do believe I have your missing link, sir." he said while pouring the water.

"What do you mean Alfred?" Barbra asked.

"Well Miss Gordon," he said turning towards her and walking, "last night I had-"

"Oh my God," Bruce said quietly. Everyone stopped and looked over at him. Bruce was turned to the side of them them with a blank expression. He looked at the paper long and hard, as if he was trying to burn the results away. He finally looked up at them, as if he didn't know what to say.

"It's Tim's blood."

Dick and Barbra had their suspicions, but now that they knew it was still a shock. Dick stood up and was going to say that he would go back and check out the asylum again when he heard glass breaking. He looked over and for the first time in his life he saw Alfred shaking; he had dropped the tray out of shock. Barbra rushed over to him and held onto him thinking he was going to faint. Alfred had gone so pale so fast that even Bruce rushed over to him.

"It's alright Alfred," he said to him, grabbing a chair for him to sit on, thinking that the shock of the news was too much for him, "we'll get him back. We'll find where he is." Alfred was breathing hard and looked like he was going to be sick; he looked up at Bruce and quietly said:

"I believe I had already found him."

* * *

Leslie cleaned up the tools she had used to stitch up Bruce's leg. She quietly thought about what was going on and looked at them. She could see that they were suffering in such a way that even she couldn't help with right now. She looked over at Barbra, she was trying not to cry anymore, but was at the computer trying to figure out where Tim could have gone to. Dick had gone down to the training course and was in the process of breaking the robotics in it. Alfred hung his head down, clearly blaming himself and Bruce...she hadn't seen him like this since his parents died. It was a good thing they told her after she reached the cave on what they had learned. After comparing Tim's old blood from the asylum to what she had taken the night before, it was apparent that indeed that boy was in fact Tim. She should have take him that night. She knew better that this. She knew they were all blaming themselves right now, but in the end it was her responsibility.

"I've recalled the Batboat back to the cave," Barbra said quietly, "hopefully he's still inside."

"I doubt it," said Dick finally finished breaking the course, wrapping his bloodied knuckles, "he knows we can do that. Have you found anything in the security files?"

"No," she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes, "he's completely wiped them from the last 24 hours."

"Why would he do that?" Dick asked.

"Perhaps he didn't want to be seen," Alfred said quietly, "he did not want to go with me at first. I thought it was because he didn't know me, but now I know was because he _knew_ me." There was silence for a few minutes, finally Barbra said:

"What about the belt he had taken from the case," she said thinking about how they found the missing belt earlier, "perhaps the tracker is still inside it?"

"I already activated it," Bruce said quietly, "he had already taken it out. It's in the case."

"Why," Alfred finally said, "why would he leave? Why didn't he tell me, tell us?" he said looking up at Leslie. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know, but I'm not going to rest until I bring him back." Bruce said while putting on his cowl.

"Stop," Dick finally said, reaching the climax of his anger, "just stop. Ok. Stop. I hate to say it, but Bullock was right. You've messed up big time Bruce, we all have. It's time to stop playing the hero and time to call for help."

"Dick, now's not the time for this." was all Bruce said. Dick's eyes widened.

"Not the time!? How the Hell can you say that!? Look at what's happened and tell me again that it's not the time! It's far past time Bruce! You and your stubborn ways have done this!" he said with his chest heaving. Bruce looked at him and said nothing.

"It's time to call in help Bruce. It's just time."

"I know." Bruce finally said. Dick looked up at him, saw that he was going toward the Batmobile.

"Were are you going?" Dick asked.

"To meet a friend," Batman said, but he sounded...defeated, "I want you two to meet up with Gordon back at Arkham. I think the Joker is still there."

"What, you mean hiding?" asked Lesley.

"I mean possibly dead." he said. The lid of the Batmobile closed and he zoomed off. Dick thought about it...it was possible that the Joker was dead, but it seemed unlikely.

"Do you really think that the Joker is dead?" Barbra asked.

"If he isn't," Dick said coldly, "I'll make sue that he won't be able to move ever again. Come on," he said putting on his mask, "we've got an asylum to search." The two sprang onto their motorcycles and left the cave. Alfred stood up and looked over at Leslie.

"Do you think that it's possible that Master Timothy could have...killed the Joker in his escape?" he asked her quietly.

"It's possible," she said to him, "but then again it's also possible that Harley could have done it as well. It seems to me that she may have possibly meant to keep him and finally got angry at the Joker about it. Only time will tell us." she said looking at him. Alfred nodded. He really didn't care about that right now however, all he wanted was to have Tim back home now.

* * *

It had taken the rest of the night to sneak back to his hiding spot and most of the morning to find the train station but he finally made it. He had painted his face back up and put back on the clothes and made his way to the station but he was finally here, and waiting for his train to arrive. It had taken some time to tell the ticket man where he wanted to go and why he was alone...but he had convinced via notes that he had a bad cold in his vocal cords and couldn't talk, and that his uncle was waiting for him. He stayed close to a man, seeing that security was watching him after that, but soon they were convinced that he had been telling the truth and left him alone. Thank goodness that people in Gotham were kind of stupid. He looked at his ticked and looked at the destination. Utah seemed like a nice quiet place. Nothing ever happened there; nobody really talked about it either. If he got tired of the heat though, he'd go up to Alaska. Nobody really lived up there anyway. Just someplace far...far away that nobody would think about looking for him. He heard the conductor call out for his train. He couldn't believe that his plan was working so far. It seemed to be running too smoothly. He handed his ticket to the conductor. He looked down at him and smiled.

"First class is to your left; your cabin is on the right of the train." He nodded in agreement and entered the train. He swam his way past all the people on the train and found the first class section. He found his cabin and put the 'do not disturb' sign on it and closed the door and pulled the curtains down on the door. He sighed...he made it, and not one laugh to give him away. He pulled off his mask and pulled down the curtains on the windows. As soon as they pulled away from the station he would maybe open them again. He sighed with frustration. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He hadn't even planed on what to do when he got there. Where would he go? Go up to the mountains and become a hermit? It really was a dumb plan in hindsight, but there was no going back, he couldn't. The train started to pull out and despite logic he opened the window. He had never been on a train before and it was kind of cool. He looked out the window for a moment, taking one last look at Gotham City.

Good radiance.

He pulled down the curtains again and started to take off his extra clothes. He would put them back on around lunch time, take some food from the lunch cart and then sleep here. It was a sleeper train after all. He walked over to the small sink and washed the makeup from his face...it was just so itchy. After about a half hour he tried to read a magazine, but it was one of those boring business ones so he put it back on the rack. He decided to pass the time by looking at some of the photos in his bag. After the third one though...he decided that it was a bad idea and stopped it, too many feelings came back up.

There was a knock on the window. He didn't move. It could have been a tree branch or just his imagination running away again. He heard the knock again. He ignored it. He put his hands over his ears and ignored it. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sound. He thought he could hear the door open, ignore it. 'It's just in your head, nobody knows you're here.' He felt someone gently tap his shoulder. 'Ignore it! It's in your head; it's not real!' He felt someone gently move his hand away from his ear. He looked up with one eye open. He closed it again and wished he didn't see what he think he just saw.

"Excuse me," Superman said cheerfully, "I noticed that you have this big old cabin to yourself. Do you mind sharing it with me for a while?" J.J. looked up at him, and Superman sat down next to him on the couch. He couldn't believe it. Really, already caught? He hadn't even left the state yet! He looked up at Superman, but he was too busy looking around.

"Wow," he said looking at the cabin, "this is really fancy, isn't it? It even has a private bathroom! Look," he said pointing to a cabinet, "they even have a mini fridge. Don't take anything from it though, that's were they gouge you for money." He looked down at J.J. and could see that he was confused and upset. He smiled and said:

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I'll go get us something, wait here." and he flashed out the room, leaving only a strong gust of wind. J.J. was thoroughly confused now. How did he know about him? Why wasn't he flying him back to Gotham right now? Just as quick as he left, Superman came back zooming in with a plate of food.

"I didn't know what you'd like so I just grabbed one of everything." he said putting the plate down onto the table. He looked down at him again and could hear his heart racing inside his chest. J.J. looked down and covered his face. He couldn't believe it. This was so embarrassing. He felt Superman put his arm around him and he thought it would be heavier than it was, but it felt light.

"Look, I know you're scared," he said gently, "I can see and hear your heart racing, but I can see that you're hungry too. It doesn't take x-ray vision to see that," he looked softly at him, "There's no rush, we'll go when you're ready to go." J.J. shook his head and re-hid his face in his hands. He couldn't go back, why couldn't he understand that? He felt the laughter come back. He had been trying his best but now it was coming out like vomit. He was shaking and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't beat Superman, no mater how hard he tried. He could feel his gloves getting wet from tears; he couldn't stop them. He didn't care. He felt large hands on his shoulders and he looked up, letting the tears flow freely. Superman was in front of him kneeling and looking at him not with contempt or pity, but with a kind smile.

"I can't imagine what goes on in Bruce's head some days," he said to him, "and I can't believe he didn't ask for my help sooner, but I promise you this; if you think he's mad or upset with you it's just not true. I've never seen him like this before. He called me up and begged me to find you, you know. I mean it, he begged me," he said sitting next to him, "I'd never had imagined Batman to ever beg for anything. You know what though," he said looking down at him, "I was angry at him. I still am. I can't believe he didn't ask for help sooner, but when I saw him beg me...I don't know," he said grabbing a muffin, "I guess I haven't seen everything just quite yet." He took a bit from it and mulled over his train of thought.

"I'm going to have a talk with him though," he said looking down at him, "but I want you to know that they have been looking for you since you disappeared, night and day. They want you home." J.J. looked down at his feet. Part of him, most of him wanted to believed Superman...but there still was that doubt. He slowly shook his head. No, he didn't believe him.

"Hey, this stuff is pretty good. Try this thing out," he said handing a pastry over to him, "I don't know what it is but it's great. Try it." He looked up at Superman, then back down at the mystery pastry and ate it. It actually was pretty good, but he didn't really care about that right now.

"You know," Superman said, "I've never been on a train before. Kind of a new thing for me. Pa though, he use to take them all the time. He loves old trains. Let me tell you about the time..."

* * *

It was weird. Superman just sat there and told him stories about the justice league and his family; when he was a boy his age and what he would do on summer days. He talked and talked for hours. There were funny stories that unfortunately made him laugh that horrible laugh but Superman didn't seemed to mind, but there were sad stories too. He told him about the time when he had only been about six or seven years old when his dog had gotten ran over by a car and had died. It was obvious that it still bothered him to talk about it. It was really weird, to hear such personal stories from Superman. J.J. looked out the window and saw that it had gotten dark outside. He looked up at Superman, who in turn looked down at him with a smile. There was no fighting it any longer. He sighed and picked up his bag and looked at Superman.

"You ready to go?"

He looked at him and shook his head, no he wasn't ready to go...but what choice did he have? There was no outrunning him. If there was one thing he had learned about super hero's, there was really no point in fighting them head on. He looked up to see Superman but saw that he was gone. He got up and got closer to the door and could hear Superman talking to somebody outside the cabin. He then reentered the cabin and said:

"Sorry about that, I was just telling the conductor that you're leaving. You ready to fly out of here?" J.J. didn't make any movements, he really didn't want to go back. He felt himself being picked up and was nestled in one of Superman's arm.

"Hang on; here we go!" he said. Then it felt like he was on a roller coaster, the kind that you get blasted up from. He looked down and could see that the train was already nearly out of sight. He buried his face into Superman's chest. It freaked him out to be so high up so fast. He could feel that Superman was flying higher and higher and soon he slowly came to a stop.

"Look, I want you to see this."

He opened his eyes and looked around. There was a sea of white beneath them and above them was another sea of stars. He had never seen so many stars before in his life.

"Isn't a great view up here," Superman asked, "sometimes when I feel down, I just come up here at night and just watch shooting stars for awhile." It really was a grand sight to see. He looked up a the stars and he could see that there were shooting stars falling down from the sky.

"Come on," Superman said after a few minutes, "let's take you home and get you to bed." He started to fly towards Gotham, but slowly this time. He looked down at Tim, he honestly couldn't believe that the Joker had done this to him, that anyone could have done this to a child. What he really couldn't believe that Bruce didn't say anything. He wouldn't do it tonight...but he was going to let Bruce know what he really thought about it. For now though, it was best to look up at the stars with Tim, and let them melt the world away.

* * *

**Thank you all again for sticking around so far! Also, thank you for the review! I really appreciate them! If any spelling errors are spotted, let me know! Thank you and see you soon!**


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